Addictions
by smoking-tulips
Summary: It's an unlikely place to start a friendship, but life is full of surprises. Something these two are about to discover.   'Hospital'/Asylum AU - M for character death
1. Chapter 1

_A.N: A challenge between Leo (Yiramy) and myself. _

_The prompt was:_ word:** Addiction** - song: **Everybody needs somebody to love** - **the Blues Brothers** - colour: **Red**

_This is my take on it_

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><p>The smoke emitting from his pipe swirled as it rose upwards before dispersing into nothing against the clear blue sky. The tobacco stilled his craving for the moment. Not by a lot, but just enough so that he could actually enjoy the nice warm summer day before his cravings became worse again.<p>

The spiky haired man was lost in a daydream when he was suddenly kicked hard in the side.

"You're taking up all the shade... Move" came a chillingly cold voice from above.

The Dutchman tilted his head upwards and stared at the newcomer who had so rudely kicked him in the side.

"There's plenty of shade under the other trees, go to them" he retorted back at the pale blonde male standing above him. In return to this the other male's glare only intensified and from his position on the ground Willem could see very easily the dark shades under the blonde man's eyes. Insomnia perhaps? He mused to himself as he studied the grumpy looking man.

"The other places are to noisy...hurts my head"

Willem looked at the rest of the large garden and concluded this stranger was probably right. It was a beautiful summer day, so of course everyone was running around and being loud. Playing what might appear to outsiders as games and generally being noisy. It wasn't uncommon, but in this place – within the four walls of the institution, it was difficult to get away from things like that when it was clearly something you did not wish to partake it the slightest.

Willem gave a sympathetic look before scooting over ever so slightly to allow the other male some space in the small spot of shade. The blonde man sat down in silence and opened a very large and old book. From the corner of his eye the Dutchman tried to read what the book was about, but the words all looked like gibberish to him and he gave up. After a few minutes of dead silence from the other male – save the sound of quiet breathing – Willem got bored.

"So...what are you in for?" he asked as he emptied out the remainder of burnt out tobacco from his pipe.

The other male glanced up from his book and stared blankly at the taller man. "Common courtesy dictates one should ask someone for their name first"

Willem blinked in surprise. Man was this guy uptight and cold.

Scratching the back of his head with a sight he tried again. "All right. Hello. My name is Willem, what's yours?"

The blonde man seemed more happy with this approach, and with a small piece of fabric he marked the page in his book as he closed it. "Erik"

He wanted to roll his eyes at this 'Erik' person. The man was obviously unable to even have a basic conversation.

"Well then Erik; why are you here?"

Erik glanced around the large garden before answering, his voice dull and lifeless. "You mean in this 'prison' or on this earth?"

All Willem could do was stare. How more annoying could this man be?

"Obviously I'm referring to the institution...idiot" the last word was muttered under his breath with a slight hint of anger to it.

If the other man had heard him, he must have chosen to ignore the last word.

"Caffeine addiction and self-induced insomnia..." came the short and unexplained reply. If anything it only made Willem have more question. How did one end up in a place like this if all you were addicted to was a cup of coffee?

"That makes no sense..."

"Makes perfect sense..."

Shaking his head in disbelief at how difficult this Erik-person was to talk to, he re-filled his pipe with finely chopped up tobacco and slowly lit it. One of the few things he was still allowed within the compound.

"Most people here are either addicted to something or utterly insane...care to explain how your coffee addiction makes you a patient here..."

Erik frowned slightly and leant against the tree a bit more, closing his eyes as he tried to think of the best was to formulate his 'diagnosis'.

"Did you know if you force the human body to stay awake for a certain amount of time...something in their mind snaps and it makes them crazy?" Erik opened his eyes and looked at Willem. He Dutchman couldn't help but notice just how prominent the dark circles were or how dull and lifeless the other male's eyes looked.

"I...I have heard of this yes..."

Erk nodded

"Good. Well...I forced myself to do just that...and now...now I see things the doctors don't think I should see..." he sighted and slumped down slightly against the tree trunk, looking a bit upset.

Curiosity got the better of him.

"What...is it you see then?"

Quite certainly Willem was sure it wasn't so bad that the smaller man would have to be locked up in this 'institution' – or as everyone outside and inside of these walls called it "the insane asylum".

He'd met one dark haired man with OCD so bad he would wash his hands till they bled, and a small young looking boy who was terrified of everything – even his own shadow it appeared...

There was also an American boy with some form of eating disorder and a small (seemingly) timid Canadian kid who seemed to have a split personality.

All in all, Willem wasn't sure what level of madness one had to qualify to posses to be admitted to this white-walled prison, but he knew the selection and the arrange of patients' problems seemed to vary quite a bit.

So when Erik opened his book again and pointed at a full page, black and white photograph of what was undoubtedly faeries, Willem couldn't really say he was too surprised.

"Those...I see things like that..."

Reaching over, he carefully pried the book out of the man's hands and studied the pictures more carefully. Breathing out a swirl of smoke he flipped through the pages some more, stopping at some of the pictures and glancing over at Erik. "Do you see...things like this too?" Willem pointed at a picture of a large troll, trying to hide his slight amusement at this whole situation.

"Yes...but only in certain places..." Erik took his book back and flipped to another page, his dull-blue eyes seeming to gain a certain spark of life as he traced the pictures with his eyes, occasionally his fingers would linger over a certain picture of a creature with such fondness Willem was almost convinced himself that such creatures really did exist.

"So..do they tell you to do bad things then? Burn down churches, sacrifice a virgin or something like that?"

Erik turned to Willem with a mix of shock and anger in his eyes – how frightfully wonderful it was to see some for of emotion in those dead eyes.

"Absolutely not! Th-they just keep me...company"

the last word was spoken so softly, a complete contrast to the initial tone of voice the man possessed. It caught Willem off guard and he tilted his head slightly as he shifted his position slightly so he could sit facing the man.

"You mean you like seeing them?" he inquired carefully; the only reply he got was a nod and a sight before Erik closed the book again and his eyes met Willem's.

"I talk to them – occasionally - but they never do anything bad..they just...they're just there...brighting up my life...giving me something to hold onto - something to care and love for..."

"I see..." was all Willem could reply with, although he couldn't quite understand it. The blonde male seemed to be lonely, maybe that's why his mind snapped and gave him little imaginary friends? It certainly would make sense. Wasn't there a British man on level 4 who insisted he'd rode a unicorn once? Willem was fairly sure there was...it wasn't unusual around here to see things. But one thing was still not clear to him.

"Why did you induce insomnia onto yourself then?"

Erik shuffled and shifted his sitting position on the grass till he deemed himself more comfortable

"Sleeping means I might have missed something important...too much at stake to allow such a thing to happen..."

"Uhh...what the fuck did you do for a living then?"

"I manned a weather station in Svalbard...weather can be treacherous up there, and people relied on me to make sure they wouldn't be taken by surprise by a storm..." Erik trailed off with the wave of a hand, not really wanting to go into more details. However, Willem had a clear enough view of the Norwegian man's situation now. He'd heard enough of Svalbard and Spitsbergen to know that for more or less half of the year the entire island was covered in darkness, the other half was always light. Of course it would mess up your sleep-cycle. Coupled then with a demanding job, it really was no wonder this man had finally snapped. Little imaginary creatures to talk to and keep him company on cold and dark endless 'nights'. If anything Willem though it was simply rational to conjure up such things – much better than a killing spree like that tall and creepy Russian man on level 5 had supposedly done.

Taking a deep drag from his pipe he watched the smoke drift upwards, it calmed him to watch the smoke dance till it 'died', becoming noting else but air.

"What about you?"

Erik's deep voice drew him out of his daydream.

"My story isn't as interesting as yours..."

"Don't care. I told you mine...so you tell me yours...fair is fair..."

Willem couldn't really argue against that.

Balancing the pipe in between his lips he shrugged of his jacket and held his arms out for the Norwegian to study.

"You can probably guess..."

Erik titled his head and carefully traced a finger down one of the Dutchman's arms, the touch sent shivers down Willem's spine, a sensation he tried to not let the other male know made him feel kinda funny.

Erik was fascinated in some way by Willem's arms. Cuts and little scars dotted around his arms, concentrated mainly around visible veins.

"Didn't know this place had drug addicts..."

Willem chuckled slightly. "We're not the majority no. Only the West wing on Level 2 is rehabilitation."

"Oh" came the quiet reply from the Nordic man as he continued to inspect the scars. Red on pale skin – a striking contrast making the scars almost appear like glowing red lights on snow. Erik found them rather beautiful. "I'm on Level 3 and don't venture much outside from there..."

"So you're not on Level 4 with the Englishman who sees unicorns?"

Erik looked up at Willem, rolling his eyes. "No...I was only up there for a week before they figured I wasn't a danger to myself or others..."

"The Brit is a danger? "

He nodded "He's infamous for burning things...mostly accidental...but the nurses swear he can make things spontaneously combust...but I think that's just a cruel trick played by that one Asian boy with pyromania."

Willem had to laugh, they might be in a 'prison', but certain things was still amusing. Not to mention this man was far more chatty and friendly once you got him going. He had missed that. It was as if a sliver of normality was slowly working it's way back into his life.

"So why did you start?"

The question threw the Dutchman off – he hadn't expected it.

Not to mention it wasn't easy.

"Progress...you start one thing and soon you start another...by the time you realise yourself you're swimming in deep water it's far to late for any rescue boat to help you" Willem frowned and sighted angrily. Angry at himself mostly – he couldn't blame anyone else. His siblings had only tried to help while he had simply pushed them further and further away, claiming he knew what he was doing – that he still had control.

However; it had all been a lie, a lie to himself.

"But you can cure addictions...or...suppress them...substitute...I'm permanently 'broken'"

Erik smiled, it was an attempt at cheering Willem up, but it wasn't a particularly happy smile – it held a certain sadness.

"Everything broken can be fixed." Willem offered, trailing off as his brain tried to give him some more comforting words – yet nothing else came to mind.

"But what if I don't want to fix it?"

that shut Willem up again. It was odd, yet understandable. If those imaginary creatures gave the Norwegian some form of comfort, then why would he want them gone? It was only logical he wanted to keep them. It reminded Willem of religion in a way. However, instead of one God, Erik had several small faeries to turn to when in need.

"I should go..." Erik slowly got up from the ground, bending carefully down to pick up his large book. "The faeries tell me it's time for my medication...and so far, they've always been right about that" he gave a sheepish smile for a brief moment.

"It was nice meeting you Willem..."

"Yeah...nice meeting you to."

"I'll see you around...yeah?"

Willem chuckled. "Yeah. unless you fly over those white walls...we will"

Erik smiled at that and with a silent 'goodbye' he headed back towards the white-washed building they all were supposed to call home – but never did.

It should have been red.

Red like the blood that flowed through their veins – red like the blood some had spilled, and red like the passion so many still felt.

For family, for friends...for the ones they loved.

White was too bland.

Red would represent it better.

A red prison to keep it's broken and damaged patients safe – from themselves and the outside.

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><p><em>AN: right, now that I've gotten this out of my brain - time to focus on my other fics!<em>

_Hope this makes my small gathering of NL/Nor fan's happy for the time beeing.  
>I still seem to be the only one to post this pairing here.<br>_


	2. Chapter 2

_A.N: The plot-bunnies will not leave me or this story alone_

_Thus: here is another chapter_

_Written with the prompt:_

_Colour: pink, Song: "Swim until you can't see land" - Frightened Rabbit, Word: Misunderstanding._

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><p>It's been four days, three hours and roughly 42 minutes since he last saw the strange and quiet Nordic man. Not that Willem had been keeping count because he cared – there was simply nothing else to do with his time.<p>

It's also three hours and 22 minutes since his last meal.

It's been ten minutes since he last smoked a cigarette.

And if anyone were to ask – he has spent the past six weeks, three days and 15 hours living in this prison.

Willem makes his way down the white corridor, he needs fresh air and a cigarette – he couldn't care less that all the nurses are telling him it's pouring with rain outside, he wants out of the sterilized and 'dead' air inside the institution and breathe the clean and natural air outside.

Then he'll have a cigarette or two.

Stepping outside he can hear two nurses chatting in hushed voices around the corner, with quiet steps he makes his way closer to the edge of the wall.

The two women are standing under the half-roof, still burning cigarettes in-between their fingers as they talk in hushed voices to each other.

"All he does is stand there"

"I know...it's creeping me out"

"Did you not tell him to go inside?"

"I did! Told him he'd get ill, but he said he didn't care"

"Perhaps we should give him some more medication..."

"You think it's his 'visions' telling him to do it?"

"What else?"

"I just wish he'd talk more, I don't know what to do when all I get from him is a blank look"

Willem thinks he's got an idea who they're talking about; certainly there are a few tidbits of information that fits the Nordic man perfectly.

However, Willem doesn't like to just speculate; he wants to know for certain.

Quietly and with careful steps he makes his way in the opposite direction from the nurses. About ten metres down the wall from the main entrance, Willem can finely see who the nurses were talking about.

Erik is standing in the garden, his head tilted backwards as he let's the heavy rain fall down upon him. He must have been here for a while already, because not a single dry patch is to be seen on the shorter male.

Willem wonders briefly if he should just leave the other man alone, he seems to be enjoying the rain shower quite a bit. However, the nurses spoke of 'visions', and while Willem has had his share of drug induced visions and imaginary scenarios he's never met anyone like Erik. A man who enjoys the imaginary creatures his mind makes up, a man who's mind gave him imaginary friends when the pressure and demand for his work became the sole focus of his life. A focus that made him sacrifice his own sanity.

If anything, the Nordic looks even more lonely now.

Standing in the rain like a little lost child.

The grass makes a soft and wet squishing sound as Willem steps onto it. With long strides over the now near-flooded garden, it doesn't take him long to reach the blonde man, but already he can feel the water seeping into his shoes. Erik is barefoot, he just now realises – and again all he can do is wonder why this fellow patient makes him ask so many questions.

"You're causing a little bit of a stir with this behaviour"

Erik seems to snap out of a trance as he turns to face Willem with a rapid motion. At first there's a hint of anger and fear in his eyes, but then the expression softens ever so slightly and Erik is once again expressionless and impossible to read.

"You again...why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same thing...the nurses think you're crazier than normal"

The Nordic man looks unamused - save for his left eyebrow raised slightly; the only indication Willem gets that Erik wants him to explain more.

"You're barefoot and standing in this heavy downpour...don't tell me you can't imagine the staff thinking this is strange – even for you"

Erik frowns slightly and looks away. His eyes once again become fixed at the dark grey clouds above them.

"Why are you out here?" Willem tries again, but he receives no reply.

After a good five minutes (and 34 seconds) Willem thinks Erik is just ignoring him.

However, as he's about to open his mouth to tell the Nordic man that ignoring him is rude – Erik suddenly speaks.

"I miss the sea..."

"The sea?" Willem looks confused as he takes a step closer to the Nordic. Erik looks a lot smaller when his clothes are soaked throughout – it's evidently he used to be fairly muscular, but the way his dark blue clothes are sticking to his skin, all Willem can think about is how malnourished the man looks.

Undoubtedly he looks similar. His sister remarked at her last visit that he's gotten a lot thinner.

'But you look better none the less' she had remarked with a large smile before kissing his cheek. Willem frowned at the memory – he doesn't like to think about his sister.

She deserves a better brother than him.

"I grew up next to the sea...lived next to it...hardly even been anywhere where I couldn't see it...but now I'm here"

There's a sadness so evident in the Nordic man's voice, even Willem can feel it pull at his heartstrings.

"Everyone thinks this is a prison..."

Erik seems to pay his comment no mind, instead he shifts his gaze from the sky and looks at Willem again. From his point of view it actually looks like Erik has been crying – but his eye's are not red, just dull and dark, with even darker circles etched around them.

"Not far from the weather-station, there was a little wooden doc – I had a sail boat...and whenever the weather was nice enough, I'd take it out...I'd sail so far that if I turned around I could hardly see land any more..."

Willem can only nod, he doesn't want to speak – speaking will mean he has to interrupt the Norwegian, and he doesn't want that. Erik is offering information, and Willem almost feels privileged.

"I always wanted to sail so far I could not see any land any more..." Erik's gaze once again is turned to the sky; Willem's eyes are locked on Erik – not even the rain seeping through his clothes can pull him out of the trance. The shorter male has a very comforting voice to listen to. He actually sounds a lot older than he looks.

"I know these walls are build to keep us inside, but once...just once I want to see the sea again..."

Willem bites his lip as reaches out for the shorter male, his hand hovering just above the other's shoulder for a moment before he quickly withdraws it again. He doesn't know how to comfort him. He can tell Erik that he'll soon be out of this prison, and then he can go back to his life – but they both know that would be a lie.

While Willem can cure his addiction, people like Erik are seldom let out again once 'caught'. People fear mental illnesses more than anything. It's impossible to see the 'scars' on Erik's mind and thus he becomes even more of a mystery. A person the nurses refuse to trust.

But Willem knows it's all just a misunderstanding.

Because Erik isn't crazy enough to be locked up, he's too sane to survive the life expected of him within these walls.

The Dutchman just has to prove he's clean and then he's a free man once again.

But Erik? Erik can't prove he doesn't see the faeries any more. He can't rolls up his sleeves and show the doctors he no longer does something he shouldn't.

No – Erik is cursed with a supposedly broken and scarred mind. That no one will ever know for certain if it is healed – and that, that is why he'll probably take his last breath within the four white-washed walls of the asylum.

This is just a temporary prison for Willem, he can escape. Erik can't leave – ever. They both know that.

"Maybe...maybe they'll let you see it again if you...you know...behave?"

Erik shakes his head.

"No. I don't do anything to anger anyone...but it's not like I get rewarded for that..."

Willem frowns. There's one thing he's forgotten to ask the other but he thinks he might dread the answer.

"How...how long have you been here?"

"I was...24 when I was admitted...I turned 28 this May"

He makes a quick calculation in his head. Erik has been here for (roughly) over four years. He's also older than Willem thought he was. He figured the shorter male was 23, he should at least be two years younger than him, as opposed to two years older. Perhaps there really is a lot of truth in what the doctors said. That smoking really does shorten one's life.

Because people think he's in his thirties while Erik could easily pass for an older looking teenager.

"That's a while..."

"Yes...it is"

an uncomfortable silence settles over them, Willem coughs into his hand – the itching in the back of his throat is growing more and more uncomfortable – but he can't light a cigarette up here. He's soaked to the bone, just like Erik is. Clothes dyed a few shades darker by the rain, making the shorter male look like a ghost. Pale skin a stark contrast to the dark blue clothes he's wearing. The only prominent colour being the soft pink hue across his lips.

Is it bad he wants to hug the shorter male?

Willem shakes his head slightly and scolds himself for even thinking it.

Erik doesn't seem like the hugging type – nor is he one of those people himself. But had his sister been here, she'd be all over the shorter man – smothering him with hugs and kisses in an attempt to cheer him up.

He can't do such things himself. So Willem excuses himself, as Erik barely pays him any mind.

A few steps away from Erik, Willem turns to face the Nordic again

"Hey...Erik?"

"Yeah?" comes a reply after a minute

"Promise you'll get back inside soon...if not the nurses might lock you up in Level 5..."

Erik chuckles and for a brief moment everything seems a little bit brighter.

However, Willem does notice - once he's inside - that Erik does have to get followed back inside by two women in white. Undoubtedly under the guise they're worried "he'll get ill", when in actual fact they just can't stand to watch a man have a brief moment of calm and happiness in a way they don't understand.

Sometimes, Willem wishes he wasn't part of the human race.

He does, however, have an idea of what his sister needs to bring him the next time she visits.

Erik might especially appreciate it.

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><p><em>A.N: This AU is far to much fun, I should be locked up...<em>


	3. Chapter 3

_A.N: Written this time with the prompt: colour: Blue, song: Stuck in the Middle from MIKA and Word: coincidence_

_Many million cheers to Leo who managed to give me those prompts and fit them so perfectly to what I already wanted to write. Stopreadingmymind Bl_

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><p>His sister arrives two days later. It's still raining, but not nearly as heavily as it used to.<p>

Margaret smiles sweetly and offers Willem some delicious home made waffles. They're consumed with such speed his sister jokes about how she must have added some 'special' ingredients by accident.

Willem frowns at her terrible humour, but he can't stay mad at her - especially when she's brought some home made chocolate with her as well.

"I'm glad you came..."

The words are soft, but every once of gratitude is present as he speaks them.

"Of course I'd come and visit...we're family" Margaret smiles brightly, and Willem feels a pang of guilt. Because he didn't listen to her before it was too late.

Because she did so much to help him, and all he could give her back was a promise he'd get clean.

Yet she never stops smiling – even when anger took over and he hurt her – Margaret could still look him in the eye afterwards and tell him she still loved him.

He didn't deserve such a perfect sister

Yet he depended so much on her kindness.

"Did..did you bring what I asked you to?" he finally asks, worried she might have found the request a little too strange.

"Duh!" she pokes the scar on his forehead and grins. "I never forget anything, unlike you" her sentence punctuated by another poke.

"Yeah yeah..stupid question I know..." Willem shakes his head and swats her hand away with the back of his hand.

Leaning down to grab her large bag, Margaret sifts through it, tongue sticking out in concentration as she pulls out the loose bits and pieces. "Dang it...they fell out"

She sight and opts for emptying all the contents of her bag on the table between them.

Willem raises and eyebrow at some of the things she keeps in her bag. He doesn't want to make her use that pepper spray, but he's fairly sure it's not legal. Also: why does she need that many shades of lipstick?

After a few minutes of sorting everything out, Willem has what he wanted.

A few different brushes, some small stretched canvases and some paper. But most importantly, a miniature set of small tubes containing oil paint and watercolours.

"I'm glad you want to take up art again, but you've not touched this for several months, why start now?"

Margaret leans closer, studying the materials she brought with her. She doesn't know much about art, and only really followed Willem's instructions. On the other hand, she does know that Willem is good at painting and she really does miss her brother giving her little pictures of flowers or animals.

Willem does remember how long it's been since he gave up making art. Seven months, two weeks, one day and 45 minutes – roughly. He's lost count of that particular date to such detail – something that annoys him more than it should.

Once his problem got out of hand, any will to paint dwindled. And with that gone, all creativity he possessed quickly followed – it was then his family really did know he was too deep in it to get out on his own.

"I want to make something for a...friend"

Willem thinks before correcting himself.

"No...friend is probably not the right word...'acquaintance' would be better." He trails of as he inspects the paint brushes.

"You've found a friend? In here?" the disbelief is apparent in his younger sister's voice. Despite how easily she can make someone happy – Margaret is and always will be the middle child and no one knows her better than her two brothers. Willem knows exactly what she's thinking and he's just as surprised as her.

Erik isn't the friendlies or most talkative of people – a stark contrast to his sister, but quite similar to himself. Yet the calm and quiet Nordic has so far made his life a little less monochrome.

"He's just someone I've spoken to...a 'friend' is a bit too strong of a word to use"

"Nonsense! You're making him a painting! That's proof enough!" the petite woman waves her arms excitedly as she's talking – a habit she seems to have gotten from her Italian friend.

Willem glares angrily at Margaret, but in reply all he gets is a big smile and his cheeks pinched.

"So cute Wim...you're blushing!" She laughs and ruffles his already messy hair.

"Stop that, stupid woman!" Willem swats her hands away and leans far back in his chair – as far back as he can to get away from her.

Margaret smiles knowingly, making Willem wish he never said anything at all.

However, when visiting hours are over, He still hugs her tightly and thanks her for coming to see him.

When it's just him alone in his room again, the place seems so much more grey and empty. His sister always did have the ability to make a room brighter.

~~~~x~~~~

A whole week passes since Margaret's visit.

Willem spends nearly all his time in his room, working out compositions on scrap pieces of paper and testing out colours.

He wants it to be perfect.

But his chosen subject to paint isn't exactly something easy as a flower or an animal. No, he's chosen to paint something that unless seen in real life or on film; it's near impossible to capture it's beauty and power.

Cursing as he manages to once again get oil paint on his trousers, Willem well and truly hopes Erik will appreciate this.

Because painting the sea is a challenge and a half.

~~~~x~~~~

He's not quite sure what to do. All he knows is that Erik is on Level 3.

The nurse he grabs a hold of in the stairs gives him a look of utter confusion (and possibly fear) when he asks if it's possible to visit another patient on a floor above.

Sure, suspicion is kind of expected. The further up in the asylum you go, the more insane and dangerous the patients get. Level five is a mystery to anyone not a patient there, and no one ever comes down once they've been transferred up there.

Willem doesn't even know what to expect from Level 3.

However, after much persuasion and promises that: no, he's just going up there to see the other male and no, he's not going to give the man any strange drugs, nor is he going to attempt to take the other male's medication. - The nurse finally agrees to let him come upstairs.

What strikes him first is that this is clearly a ward aimed for people who definitively are not quite well in the head. All the rooms have a little sliding cover, just in case the patient needs to be kept an eye on when the door is closed.

The nurse leads him down the hallway, and what he's fairly sure is the northern part of the ward. Some doors are open, but Willem barely dares to look at anyone else but the nurse in front of him. Just visiting up here is uncomfortable, he can't imagine the hell Erik must go through having to live here.

"and for so many years" he bitterly adds to himself.

One of the last rooms in the corridor seem to be their destination. The door is closed, but the nurse gives a quiet knock before opening it. Willem can't see anything from where he's standing, but he can hear the nurse speak.

"Mr. Soransen, you have a visitor"

His last name makes Willem flinch. He's never heard Erik pronounce it – but is sure as hell can't be pronounced like that. A glance at the small hand scrawled name tag on the door confirm his suspicion.

"Erik A. Sørensen"

He can't hear any reply, but the nurse does step out of the doorway and smiles sweetly at him. "Just go on ahead William"

Willem gives a quiet nod in thanks – not really wanting to point out she mispronounced his name too.

Erik is sitting on his bed, looking out of the window with his knees drawn up to his chin, however; when Willem closes the door, the noise rings out through the quiet room and he turns to face the taller man.

Confusion is etched into his pale features, and he looks even worse for wear than he did ten days ago.

"Hello..." He offers, no longer quite sure what to say now that he's finally here.

The Nordic must share his thoughts, because he seems completely taken aback by his sudden visit.

Erik opens his mouth, but quickly closes it again. With shaky hands he uncurls his frail frame and edges closer to the edge of his bed.

"You...why...why are you here?"

Willem rolls his eyes.

"Gee...nice to see you too..."

Erik blinks in confusion then his expression is unreadable again. Willem can almost see the gears turning inside the other male's head. He's obviously not expected anyone else to come to his room – save the nurses.

"I...that's not...quite what I meant...sorry"

Now it's the Dutchman's turn to be confused. Erik apologised. That's certainly odd.

"Um...don't worry...it's okay" He scratches the back of his head – his right hand still holding the small painting, wrapped up in some newspaper Margaret brought for him to read a few weeks ago.

"I know your birthday was...a while ago" four months to be accurate – he's not sure about the date yet. "but I...well..." Willem coughs awkwardly before handing Erik the small package.

The blonde male looks at him with his eyebrow raised in confusion, but he does extend his hand and accept Willem's gift.

Long and thin fingers carefully unwrap the layers of old newspaper until the little canvas is revealed.

Erik makes a hitched sound that might be a sharp intake of breath – but Willem isn't quite sure.

The Norwegian is staring at the picture, his fingers lingering over the paint – he's too scared to touch it, in fear he'll ruin it, but on the other hand: Erik really can't get over how real it all seems.

The painting is of the sea, to the left is a small wooden and weather worn doc, a small red row boat a contrast to the rest of the picture: endless blue sea.

Water is hard to capture, but Willem deems he's done an all right job. However; as he shifts nervously from one foot to another, he really wishes Erik would say something – anything really.

Dragging the only chair in the room over to the bed, Willem sits down and tries to get a better look at the shorter male.

He can't really hep but notice that there isn't a single sharp corner in the room. Everything is also bolted to the floor – and the chair he's sitting on is incredibly lightweight and made of white plastic.

It's far from comfortable. The bed doesn't look much better.

It's sparsely decorated – there's a bookshelf with a lot of old books, the only indication of anything personal.

White walls, white shelves, white wardrobe, white sheets.

Everything is white. The only colour is Erik's clothes. Dark blue like the sea set against a white as snow background.

If this is Level 3, Willem shudders to think what Level 4 and 5 are like.

Padded walls and straight jackets come to mind – and he's not too far off either if this is how people who are no danger to themselves or others are treated.

His focus slides over the room till it lingers on Erik again.

He's still ghosting over the painted water and it makes Willem smile. The picture seems to have at least made an impression.

Then he notices Erik's expression.

His blonde hair is hanging over his forehead, but it can't cover his eyes entirely.

He's crying, silent tears rolling down his cheeks, never getting further than his chin before the Norwegian wipes them away. Terrified he'll ruin the painting should they fall.

"Erik...?" Willem gives him a concerned look, he hadn't expected the man to show such emotion. He's also not sure if Erik is upset or happy – its impossible to tell from where he's sitting.

"Takk...tusen takk"

Erik seems to not notice he's slipped back to his mother tongue for 45 seconds, then he suddenly lifts his head and smiles.

It's a genuine smile. Willem has never seen it before, but he can tell it's real.

"Thank you...thank you so much"

The taller male smiles back, glad to have made his 'friend' smile.

"But you didn't have to...really..." Erik's gaze once again falls down to the painting, in his mind it's as if he can hear the waves crashing against the shore, the smell of salt-water and cold wind whipping though his hair is as clear as day right now. Memories that make him want to smile, laugh and cry all at once.

"Well...saw you got dragged back inside...When suddenly you were nowhere to be seen...so I...wondered" and worried he wants to add, but that would be embarrassing.

"Oh...Sorry about that...They've kept me up here...They think I'm suicidal"

Willem straightens up slightly

"Are you?"

"No. I just liked standing in the rain. It's like it washes everything away. Nature's shower ya know" Erik glances up from the painting with a playful smile, and Willem just knows he's cheered the Norwegian up – even just by a little bit.

"Guess that's right..."

Suddenly he remembers the other thing his sister brought with him. Rummaging through his pocket she pulls out a clear plastic bag filled with pralines and chocolate truffles.

"My sister came to visit...brought me these. I figured you might want one"

Erik's eyes light up even more, and all Willem can do is chuckle at his reaction.

"I love chocolate" comes the hurried and far to excited reply, The Dutchman can almost see a child version of the Nordic – the guy must really love sweets.

Shaking his head in disbelief at the strange friend he seems to have gotten himself, Willem open the bag and tells Erik to help himself.

23 minutes later, every piece of chocolate is gone and any trace of sadness on the Nordics' face is washed away. The painting carefully placed on the white bed side table with so much care and love that even the though makes Willem bluish slightly.

Maybe Margaret was right – Erik really is a good friend.

* * *

><p>A.N: I pray I can keep this up for a few more chapters, it's so much fun and I'm glad it's been such a hit with a few people already. Such lovely reviews you've all given me. I really appreciate it.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

_A.N:_

_Shaken up slightly by this weekends happenings, but I refuse to let one madman ruin things I enjoy._

_I will not use anything from the 22.07.11 happenings in any shape or form, but I did still want to continue this fic._

_I hope this chapter lives up to people's expectations._

_Prompt this time was:_

_Colour: Orange, Song: "Memory" from CATS the musical and word: Frame_

* * *

><p>After much persuasion and some very cold glares, Willem is allowed to visit Erik whenever he feels like it.<p>

The Nordic isn't allowed anywhere but the library and the garden, so if the two want to talk on a rainy day, their only option is Erik's room or the level 3 living room.

But Willem is terrified of staying there for too long – the other patients stare at him and some get uncomfortably close.

So Willem brings a pillow or two from his own room and the two men sit and chat about various topics.

It only takes a week before some of the more regular nurses seem to think Willem's visits are doing Erik good. And soon the nurses fetch them freshly brewed coffee from the staff room whenever they see Willem making his way down the corridor.

In a (no longer that) rare moment of happiness, Erik jokes that it's almost like being in a five star hotel.

Willem laughs before pointing out that most hotels don't lock you up in your room.

However, he has to admit it's rather fantastic what they do.

Erik has his own an-suite bathroom, and all his clothes are neatly washed and pressed before being handed back to him.

Willem has to wash his own clothes.

But he's the one in re-rehabilitation. He's supposed to be as independent as possible.

Erik is stuck here forever – so he has no need to know how to wash his own clothes.

Although, he did bitterly tell Willem that he actually liked doing laundry and housework, and he hated how he wasn't even allowed to wash his own floors any more.

It's during one of their little meetings that Willem discovers Erik has a few unusual or strange hobbies (not including seeing and talking to faeries)

The Norwegian male knits.

And he's good at it.

However; Erik tells him with a frown that he's not allowed the knitting needles he wants, only the big and blunt ones. He admits to only being able to make crude scarves – and while Willem thinks it's a bit unfair, he can't help that the mental image of Erik knitting makes him chuckle none the less.

"Hhn, by the way...are you allowed visitors from the outside?" the taller male adds during one of their little coffee 'dates'.

Erik looks at Willem over the rim of his coffee cup before slowly placing the cup on his bedside table. As usual Erik is using his bed as a chair while Willem has stolen all pillows and duvets he can find and made himself comfortable on the floor.

"Yeah...I'm allowed visitors" he nods as he's talking; absent-mindedly munching on some salty licorice he always seems to keep in his bedside table drawer.

"But why do you ask?"

"My sister is coming over tomorrow...she wants to meet you too"

"Meet me? Why?"

"I have no idea...you're as dull as a brick"

"Oi..." Erik frowned and chucked a piece of licorice at the Dutchman's head.

Willem attempted to dodge the 'deadly' piece of licorice projectile - it still hit him square in the head. Erik has a damn good aim.

"Ouch...uncalled for" Willem mutters under his breath

"You deserved that one" Erik crosses his arms and leans against the wall. "Now tell me why your sister wants to meet me..."

He shifts uncomfortably under the Nordics cold glare. He knows Erik won't do anything more than a light punch to his arm, but Willem has to admit that despite the height difference; Erik still knows exactly how to make Willem feel incredibly small and weak.

"I have, um ...well...mentioned you a few times when she comes to visit, and now she's...curious"

Erik rolls his eyes "Is she that interested in meeting the crazies?"

The comment makes Willem frown and glare right back at the Norwegian. He chucks a pillow at the blonde male.

"Not everyone thinks you're a lunatic just because you're in here"

"The people who matter seem to think so..."

Erik once again gets the odd look in his eyes. There's a story behind that comment, but Willem can't even begin to try and guess what. Needless to say, he's still going to try.

"Come to think of it...you never have any other visitors but me...why is that?"

"Maybe I don't have any family...did you consider that?"

The words are bitter and angry, and Willem has to admit that no – he did not consider that.

"But you do have a family...or you must have had one at some point"

Erik moves further away from him, turning his head to look out of the window – Willem knows he's hit a sensitive topic now. Erik only ignores him like this when there's something he doesn't like to talk about is brought up.

However, the Dutchman has never been one for subtlety, nor is he a patient man.

"Erik, for fucks sake. Stop being a such a prissy little teenage girl."

The Norwegian suddenly looks at Willem with such a raging fire in his dark blue eyes that it frightens Willem down to the very depth of his soul. He's never seen Erik this angry with him. The next thing he knows Erik has thrown the pillow back at him and 20 seconds later the Nordic has a firm grip on his shirt's collar, pulling him slightly up from his comfortable position on the floor.

"They took him away...I'm dead to him...I can never see him again"

Willem is shaking, he's never seen Erik this mad. And for a brief moment he suddenly knows why Erik is locked up in the asylum.

"Who can't you see?" His voice is cracking ever so slightly as he speaks. Showing fear is a bad idea, but his so-called-friend is so angry right now that all Willem can feel is terror.

"My...brother..." Erik's grip on Willem loosens and he suddenly crumbles. Just as quickly as the burst of anger came – it's gone.

Left is the broken and empty shell of a man. His shoulders are quivering as Erik tries to curl up in a tiny ball. His long slender limbs making the process look uncomfortable and painful.

"Erik..?" Willem carefully reaches out to touch the Nordic male's shoulder. He might not like hugs, but a little human interaction seems to be welcomed.

"Sorry" comes the weak and apologetic voice. It doesn't suit him at all. Erik should be strong, never showing emotions like fear and weakness, because it simply just sounds so wrong. His deep voice can lull a scared child to sleep – but when his own voice is terrified; something is just not right.

Willem silently debates what to do as he glances towards the door.

The nurses have not come running yet – not that Erik raised his voice enough for them to hear him - Willem shudders to think what would have happened had they seen Erik grab a hold of him so violently.

Level 5 for the rest of his life perhaps...

Willem doesn't want that.

Erik isn't getting better from isolation.

Isolation is what caused him to snap in the first place, why can't they see that he needs people around him to be cured?

"I shouldn't have prodded old wounds in the first time..."

Erik shakes his head, moving away from Willem with slow and careful movements – as if he's some large scary animal trying to prove he won't hurt a small defenceless creature.

He doesn't move until Erik is well and truly back on his own bed, after 4 agonising minutes of silence Willem decides to try again.

"So you have a brother...?"

All he gets as a reply is a nod.

Okay – not very helpful, but he's still alive: and that certainly counts for something. Erik is quiet but in no rush to rip his throat out, so Willem deems it safe to ask a few more questions.

He coughs into his hand, the itch in the back of his throat becoming more prominent as he feels his nerves jitter and shake.

"What's his name...and um...how old is he?"

Erik seems to not have heard him, but this time Willem doesn't press him for more information. Instead he sits completely still and simply waits.

And he's greeted with results.

Slowly Erik moves to his bedside table, opening the top drawer with slow movements. After removing a few books, paper pads and some pencils, he pulls out an old and battered photo frame.

The picture is slightly faded and worn, yet it is still clear to Willem who it is. Erik is sitting on some rocks near the sea – he looks about 18, on his lap is a young boy, no older than 7 or 8. The two are smiling. Not a large and wide grin, but small and mysterious.

"My little brother...Emil" Erik breathes out quietly as he let's Willem take the photo frame and study the picture more carefully.

It's very apparent the two are related, they have a certain air around them that is even able to be conveyed through pictures.

Willem often found Erik's 'aura' a little mysterious, he fears if he actually had his brother in the same room the two could probably freeze a person to the spot with a single glance.

"What happened?"

Again, all he gets is silence. However; he knows he needs to be patient now – Erik will tell him, at his own pace.

While Erik doesn't speak, whenever Willem steals a glance at the shorter male; he can tell he's deep in thought. His brows are furrowed ever so slightly, and his bottom lip is being chewed endlessly. His usually soft pink lips turning into a violent red as Erik's sharp teeth are gnawing away at the tender flesh.

"They didn't think I could care for him any more..."

His voice is quiet, and Willem can hear how much he's struggling to put it all into words – it can't be easy to re-live such memories; yet he keeps quiet because he wants to know so badly more about Erik's life.

"He's eleven years younger than me..."

Ok – younger than Willem had guessed. Emil must now be 17 then. He would have been around 13 when Erik was admitted to this place.

A shiver runs down the Dutchman's back.

Erik isn't allowed to see his brother – and they seem to be so close in the picture.

It is no wonder this asylum is slowly killing the Nordic – everything he loves and cares about is being denied from him or taken away.

Suddenly the burst of anger he displayed earlier is so very understandable that Willem feels incredibly guilty for even thinking Erik needed to be locked up.

"Our parents were always so busy...they up and left when Emil was 8...left me to care for him"

Willem's gaze is drawn towards the photograph again – it must have been taken around that time. They look carefree, but since it's only the two brothers Willem can't help but speculate if the picture was taken after their parents left.

Erik must have been a very strong person to resume such a responsibility.

Yet some things are missing from the puzzle. If Erik took care of his brother, why did he still end up broken and locked up in a place like this when it was loneliness that made him snap in the first place?

Has he been lying to him?

Willem shakes the thought away – he needs to stop doubting Erik. Right now he's the only one who trusts Erik or believes his stories (not the faerie ones – but not even Erik expects anyone to believe them)

"I needed to work...so when I was 20 I got the job at Svalbard. Emil stayed at a friends of ours' home in Iceland most of the year..."

Willem nods as he listens to Erik slowly but surely unveil his past.

The Norwegian is leaving out a lot of details, but details isn't needed to understand the situation. Erik's tone of voice is all Willem needs to understand just how difficult it all is for his friend.

"Due to the...well...long hours, I only got to see him during Christmas..."

Erik is picking at his nails, the edges frayed and broken as he rips of piece by piece. Willem doesn't think Erik even notices that he's doing it – it's like a bad habit.

With a sight he moves from his spot on the floor to sit beside him, reaching out to grab a hold of one hand.

Erik flinches at the contact, but he does stop ripping his own fingernails to bits.

"I..I wrote to him...but..I don't know...it just wasn't the same"

Willem frowns as he strokes his thumb over Erik's knuckles. He's never considered himself tanned, but in contrast with the Norwegian, he's a lot less pale than Erik.

"Why doesn't he come visit you now while you're here?"

Erik mutters something that Willem can't quite catch

"Come again?"

The pale blonde male takes a deep breath before speaking again

"His new 'caretakers' don't think it's good for him to see his 'psychopathic' brother..."

"Fuckers" Willem almost growls the word out.

It's not fair in any way that Erik should be denied contact with his younger brother. After all; Willem would be on the dwindling road to suicide had he not had his siblings.

How Erik is still alive is actually one big mystery.

"Last I heard...they told him I'm dead...wouldn't surprise me either..."

"oh..."

Silence falls over them once again, and suddenly Willem is aware he's still holding Erik's hand.

He quickly lets go – and immediately regrets it.

Even if he was the oldest, no one could make him feel safer than Margaret. The way his younger sister would smile so sweetly and hold his hand if he ever got scared.

It had been Margaret who had held his hand while he had been in hospital after he'd fallen down from a very high climbing wall.

The accident had left a scar on his forehead, but only Margaret knew that Willem had been dared to do it by some older kids.

Or rather – they had threatened to do something to his siblings if he didn't climb the wall.

Willem had in his childish naivety done as told. The next thing he knew one of the older kids had thrown a rock at his head and then he lost his grip.

Next memory was of a smiling Margaret sitting by his bed – holding his hand and singing a song.

She had refused to leave his side for the entire hospital stay. Bringing him her stuffed animals and security blanket to 'borrow' while he recovered.

His hospital room had by the end of the stay been transformed from pale green and white to a colourful display of all the colours of the rainbow.

His siblings even insisted on using their allowance to buy him a potted plant.

He still had it.

It had been a tulip bulb in a ceramic pot - painted a bright orange.

Willem had taken great care of it, and eventually planted out in the garden. Margaret gave him updates in how the plant was faring whenever she came to visit.

It was nice to be reminded about silly things like that.

Clearing his throat, he patted the man on the back before he stood up from the bed.

"Well...Margaret will be thrilled to meet you..."

he flashed Erik a smile as he took a small step away, thankful that Erik seemed to be recovering slightly from his slump into depression.

"We..." Willem shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another – this wasn't easy to put into words

"We...might not be blood related, but we'll be your family none the less..."

Erik met his eyes and a small smile spread across his lips.

"That...would be nice"

Willem grinned. Success.

* * *

><p><em>A.N:<em>

_Thanks to everyone still sticking with me and this fic – I get so giddy every time I see someone has sent me a review for this. 8D Takk_


	5. Chapter 5

_A.N:_

_Leo is on vacation in Denmark – but I get her to text me prompts none the less. And even if she's not read the previous chapter, she still manages to send me these prompts that just...work. Ily_

_Colour: White, Song: 99 Luftballons – Nena, Word: Union._

* * *

><p>"For the love of God, would you slow the fuck down?"<p>

Willem rolls his eyes as he takes the stairs in pairs of two.

Margaret is almost running up the long and light-grey staircase to Level 3. The blonde woman is smiling and can't seem to stand still for even a second.

"it's just because you're so slow" she teases and winks at her older brother. All Willem can do is stick his tongue out as he tries to catch up. He needs to start exercising – when Margaret can out-run him like this – he knows he's getting out of shape.

"I'm so excited to finally meet this mysterious friend of yours! You always talk about him, makes me so curious!" The petite woman skips down the hallway with light steps, swinging a large picnic basket around; something that worries Willem a lot – because he can hear glass clinkering against one another as his sister jumps around like a 5-year old.

"Is he handsome? I bet he is"

Willem almost stumbles over his own feet

"Handsome? Now the hell would I be able to tell you that?"

"Oh don't be such a stick-in-the-mud Wim! I'm not going to seduce him...unless he's super hot, then I might flirt a bit"

The younger woman laughs as her older brother face-palms and groans – she's not even met Erik and already he's regretting this.

Once they reach the Norwegian's room, Willem knocks once before entering.

"Goedemorgen Erik...I brought-"

He's suddenly cut of as his sister pushes him away from the door and near launches herself at Erik

"Ohmygod! He's gorgeous!"

Erik looks terrified at the sudden contact from a woman he's never met before, and the Nordic male seems to be almost falling off his chair.

"Margaret, let go if him...you're scaring him"

Blinking in confusion at her brother's words, she then focuses on the man she's clinging to.

"Oh..I am so, so , so sorry!"

Immediately she releases Erik from her death-like grasp and takes a step back. Both siblings notice the slight trembling as Erik takes a few deep breaths. Had the Nordic been 30 years older he would most likely have died of a heart attack right here and now.

Margaret smiles sweetly and curtsies politely to Erik, hoping to redeem herself like she always does: using her good looks and charm.

"I'm Margareet...but you can call me Margaret. It's nice to meet you Erik"

The Norwegian looks the blonde woman up and down with dull-blue eyes before giving her a small smile. "Nice to meet you too Margarete...sorry..Margaret." Erik mentally slaps himself for getting the woman's name wrong right after she just told him how to pronounce it. Not good.

With a quick motion he shuts the book he had been bent over before he was attacked by a very affectionate woman. Willem only manages to catch a glimpse of the book; sketches and a few words – immediately he wonders if the Nordic is an artist too.

However; he doesn't get a chance to ask, because his sister is already bombarding the other male with questions. She wants to know everything – down to his favourite colour and music style.

Erik avoids almost every single questions with a slight frown and another attempt at escaping the blonde woman. He does, however, admit rather quietly he's really fond of the colour blue.

As if his wardrobe wasn't proof enough of that.

Margaret makes small talk, asks him how to properly pronounce his last name and then chats about how she was born in Belgium, but grew up mostly in the Netherlands together with her siblings. Erik nods occasionally and seems to listen to what she's saying, but Willem is blocking out his sister's inessential babbling. Instead he focused on Erik. He sees how the Nordic man's eyes dart from Margaret to his leather bound sketchbook on the desk. He notices how Erik is again picking pieces off his nails – ripping them to shreds again.

It seems to be some sort of odd nervous habit, yet it is completely ignored by everyone but him.

He's probably over thinking things

Then again; it won't hurt to try...

Clearing his throat to get the two blonde's attentions Willem looks at his sister with one eyebrow arched – making his small scar move ever so slightly up.

"I distinctly remember you promised us waffles..."

"So I did!" Margaret claps her hands together and springs up from the edge of Erik's bed. "I'll ask the nurses to borrow the kitchen downstairs. Be back soon!"

The two men watch as she takes of with light steps. Erik seems mesmerized by something, because he's watching his sister walk away intently – Willem hasn't really seen that look before.

With a swift motion, Willem flicks Erik's temple with his forefinger and thumb. Erik recoils slightly and glares.

Then his expression soften and he looks towards his door again.

"She...she's real..right? You're not tricking me..."

He doesn't know if he should be worried or laugh.

"Erik...Margaret is my sister...of course she's real..." but the question worries him – what has Erik seen that makes him doubt his sister's existence?  
>"What on earth would make you think other wise?"<p>

Erik's movements are slow, as if he's scared Margaret will come back at any moment and catch him doing something he shouldn't. Like strangling her brother.

"She...well...I have seen her before..."

"What? Impossible"

"yeah...I know..." Erik coughs into his hand and pulls his sketchbook out from the loose pieces of paper he tossed over it.

"Yet...I have a drawing of..well..her."

All the taller male can do is blink. This isn't making any sense.

Yet; when Erik opens the book and hands it to Willem, he has to admit – it certainly does look like Erik has met his sister before.

The Norwegian has drawn a beautiful woman sitting on the edge of a lake, the only thing that has been added as colours are blonde hair and green eyes, the rest of the drawing has just been left on the beige paper; only some thin pencil lines marking shadows and depth. It looks real – or at least drawn from real life.

However; there is one great difference. The woman in the drawing has a tail.

Willem looks at the drawing, then at Erik, then at the drawing again. He can't quite piece this together.

"How? I mean: who is this...?"

"I don't know her name...she's a Huldra...she's one of the creatures I see..."  
>the last words come out quietly. Obviously Erik doesn't want to admit he can see his fairytale friends so clearly he can make frightfully accurate drawings of them. Even worse – the huldra-woman looks just like Margaret.<p>

Yet Erik has never met her. And he can't have seen her in passing while at the institution - not in such great detail. The entrance to Level 2 and Willem's room is on the opposite side from the Level 3 entrance and where Erik's window faces. It is, in all senses: impossible.

And as far as Willem knows, he's never even mentioned what his sister looks like.

"This is creepy"

"You're telling me..."

"You've drawn my sister...practically half naked"

"I..um...actually...when I saw that particular 'creature' she wasn't wearing clothes at all..."

Willem knows a few people who would kill to be able to see beautiful naked women – real or imaginary.

"Not that I want to ask..but I feel I should...why did you then add clothes?"

Erik gets a hint of a blush across his pale cheeks.

"I amuse myself by writing and illustrating children's stories based on what I see. I didn't feel it was appropriate to have her naked in a book intended for children."

"Ah..." Willem tears his eyes away from the Margaret-look-alike Huldra and inspects the opposite page. And there it is, as clear as day, a few short sentences on the beautiful creature and how she fell in love with a human.

The rest of the book is the same.

Everything written in Erik's beautiful cursive handwriting. With each little story there are incredibly detailed drawings or sketches of the characters, some large and scary – others small and cute. However, one thing is a common theme in Erik's drawings:  
>While he can draw incredibly realistic creatures and humans, the Norwegian seems unable or uninterested in drawing scenery.<p>

Thus the book is incomplete.

Pages upon pages feature little faeries dancing on sketchy flowers and toadstools – you can see what Erik wants to have around them, but he never gets further than drawing the creatures.

"Fascinating..." Willem mutters to himself as he turns the pages one by one. A woman in a dress made of the whitest snow, a gnome using a rabbit as a mount and a beetle carrying a little flower faery. Everything seems so vivid and real.

Until you tear your eyes away from the creatures.

Willem feels an itch in his fingers. He wants to colour, draw and perfect these beautiful illustrations. Make the entire scenery come alive with flowers, grass and trees. Make the water in the river flow as if it was real, and paint the clouds in the sky – dull grey or a brilliant white.

"You have a lot of talent"

"Not on the same level as you, you make the earth come alive in your work. All I do is put pencil to paper and draw things that don't exists"

"I can draw the rest"

The words fall out of his mouth before he can even think. Willem bites his lip – he wasn't supposed to voice that though out loud. Any moment he expects the Norwegian to rip the book away from his hands and glare at him for even suggesting to tamper with his work.

It never comes.

"You...you'd do that?"

"Well, only if you'd want me to..."

Erik grins like a child at Christmas.  
>"I'd love you to"<p>

He gets a giddy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He's never collaborated with anyone on something like this, it's terrifying and exciting all at once.

Their in deep discussion by the time Margaret returns with a large batch of fresh waffles (He lost count but he thinks she took about 45 minutes and 9 seconds). Erik tries to subtly hide the book away, while Willem distracts his sister by poking fun at how long it took her to make something so simple. They want to show her the complete book once it's finished – not while it's still a mess of pencil lines and ideas.

There is also the issue of Erik's little huldra-woman and her uncanny likeness to Margaret. She'd probably be flattered, but Erik is to polite or shy to show it to her now.

For the remainder of her visit, the three sit around in Erik's room, chatting and telling stories. Erik even allows Margaret to get close enough so she can braid parts of his hair. The Nordic man gives her quizzical looks from the corner of his eye while Willem tries his uttermost best at not keeling over with laughter. A mission he fails at least 6 times.

Erik's blonde hair is getting long in some places, and after he tells Margaret (for the 99th time) that he really wishes she'd stop fiddling with his hair – the petite woman decides she'll give him a haircut.

A pair of borrowed scissors later(in exchange for home-made waffles – who knew the nurses were so easy to bribe?), Erik once again has the hairstyle from his old photograph.

The trio chat until visiting hours are over, and a nurse actually has to come and tell Margaret that they can't allow her to stay any longer.

~~~~~~x~~~~~~

Once again, it's just the two of them. Although the silence that follows ,after the chatty young woman has left, is far from as uncomfortable or awkward as it was before.

"She's nice"

"Heh, yeah... she is"

"You're lucky to have her"

"Trust me, I count my blessing every day that she still puts up with me"

"Must be an angel"

"You say that as if you can see wings or something"

"Maybe I can"

Erik gets a playful look in his eyes.  
>With a groan and a light glare, Willem throws a pillow at the Nordic – lightly.<p>

"First a tail and now wings? You sure you don't belong up in Level 4?"

"You're allowed to stick me up there if I start stalking her or trying to push her out the window to prove she has wings"

"Level 4 is scary..."

"Level 5 is worse"

Willem thinks for a moment  
>"Have you seen level 5?"<p>

"No...but I've spoken to one guy who's been up there"

The Dutchman nods – then he finally processes what Erik just said.

"Hang on a minute! No one ever comes down from level 5!"

"True...in a sense..." Erik sights and leans against his beds headboard. "He was convicted of having attacked his cousin with an axe..."

Willem flinches and shudders at the thought.

"So of course they stick him up in Level 5. However, a year later they realise someone had sneaked some really powerful hallucinogenic drugs into his drink that night – as a prank – and it caused him to have such vivid hallucinations he attacked the first moving thing he saw, sadly that was his cousin..."

"But he survived?"

"Yeah, bad blood between them for a while, but his cousin now comes to visit a few times..."

"Wow...can't quite believe that"

"Neither could I when he told me...he's annoying, but not the murder type"

"You're like the...guru of stories in this place"

Erik laughs at the compliment and shakes his head. "I'd rather not be, Level 4 is bad enough. Level 5 is hell"

"I can imagine"

Willem is about to ask if Erik can tell him how the other levels look like – because he's curious. However; a nurse sticks her head in the door and tells him he has to leave.

"I'll tell you about it another day...it's not exactly a cosy story to tell around bedtime..."

"As if that would stop you..."

"Heh, true. But let's keep this day positive."

Willem chuckles and waves goodbye to the Norwegian.

Making his way down to his own room, he can't help but wonder if perhaps Erik really is family now. Margaret at least seemed to really want to adopt him – and knowing his sister, she probably will do so if given the opportunity.

The sleep comes naturally – he even forgets to take his calming medicine. Yet for once he doesn't wake up and feel the need to fill his veins with anything.

He's making progress.

slowly but surely he's becoming who he once was.

And funnily enough, it's partly due to a friend who sees thing he can't.

* * *

><p><em>A.N:<em>

_okay, this was rather long. I hope it's still good and that it's not boring anyone to sleep yet._

_I also hope I'm getting better at working in the prompts with more subtlety._

_(I'm not so subtle about who's the patient from Level 5... )_


	6. Chapter 6

_A.N:_

_Still forcing prompts out of Leo...I might be killing her phone's credit ._

_and a big cheer to the person who kick-started this AU idea in the first place. DamnyouPipkin Bl I have too many muses..._

_Song: The ketchup song – las Ketchup, Colour: green, Word: mirror._

* * *

><p>His voice is oddly soothing, when he actually bothers to speak; you listen. Willem learnt that quickly.<p>

It had started as a simple question: all he had wanted was for Erik to explain to him the stories in slightly more detail. He had wanted to get a proper feel of the creatures and their stories before he would start drawing and painting the scenery around them.

Because he strives for accuracy.

So what was supposed to simply be a few words of explanation, soon Willem finds himself sitting in one end of Erik's bed, long legs drawn up towards his chest as he cradles a cup of coffee that went cold hours ago. He doesn't notice, he's to absorbed in Erik's voice and how he weaves the most magnificent tales in his deep and soothing voice.

Spread in front of Erik is his leather-bound sketchbook and a lot of loose pieces of paper. For each page of Erik's illustration, Willem has made a sketch of a potentially suitable background or scenery.

However, by page 80 of around 200, Willem stopped drawing and just listened.

He listens to how animated and happy Erik sounds as he weaves more and more details into his stories about the daily happenings of his imaginary friends.

It's like listening to a small child. The only difference is that Erik speaks with much more conviction and realism. Not to mention the spark of magic in his eyes that becomes more and more apparent with each new story.

The excitement and liveliness however; are the same.

"...problem is that usually when you build something so small, it's so easy for bigger creatures to accidentally knock it over..."

Erik is explaining to Willem how faeries build their houses, and to the Dutchman's ears it well and truly sounds like Erik was once a carpenter of sorts. No way can anyone know that much about structures and not have studied it.

"...and cement is really unheard of, but soak some moss and hold the structure up with sticks and not only will the stones stay in place, it also creates great insulation..."

Willem smiles and manages to finally doodle a little fairy house.

"Hu? Did I bore you or something?" Erik gives the blank pieces of paper a quizzical look – he was too absorbed in his own storytelling he never noticed Willem put down the pencil and paper in the first place.

Shaking his head Willem chuckles at the Nordic male "No...far from it. Your stories are fascinating, I didn't want to draw anything...too focused on your little faeries' daily lives..."

Erik's pale cheeks seem to take on a slight shade of pink as he smiles. "Good...I was worried I completely put you off this project"

"Nah, if anything I find it more fascinating now..."

Stretching his hands above his head till a satisfying crack from his spine is heard, Willem resumes doing a few quick sketches and ideas for each page in the book. Watching him from across the bed, Erik shifts his position slightly and edges closer to the Dutchman with his sketchbook.

Picking up one of the sketches of a large waterfall, the Norwegian holds it next to his own drawing of a water spirit.

When Willem looks up from his sketch he's met with a sight that makes him laugh. Erik is sitting cross-eyed and cross-legged, staring at their separate drawings – obviously trying to picture the two drawings being merged into one.

"Oi..," Willem pokes the blonde's forehead with the end of his pencil, "Don't do that...the wind will change and you'll stay like that"

Erik snaps out of his daze and rubs his eyes, suppressing a small yawn. They've been awake sine 7 am, both choosing to eat both breakfast, lunch and dinner in Erik's room while planning the storybook. To an outsider it might seem like a trivial and stupid thing to focus so much time and energy on.

There is, however, some things an outsider will never understand. Finding hobbies while in such an institution is important. It doesn't matter to Willem or Erik that no one but they (and possibly Margaret) will ever see the finished book. Right now it's something to occupy themselves with. Something to keep their minds alert and active while simultaneously forgetting they are in a 'prison'.

After a few moments of silence – filled only with the sound of pencils on paper – Willem desperately needs to break the comfortable silence despite himself. Erik is so much more willing to share things, so perhaps: just maybe – he will answer his question

"Level 4...what's it like? I mean...compared to Level 3?"

To his surprise, Erik doesn't ignore or give him an evil stare – he's meeting his eyes with a calm and collected expression before opening his mouth to speak.

Words not as full of joy as before – instead they match those dark and lifeless eyes.

"Level 4 is more like a prison... no personal items except your clothes are allowed – and even those are controlled," Erik frowns but continues speaking, his voice isn't as animated and enthusiastic any more. It's taken on the tone he first used when Willem met him – cold and uncaring,  
>"anything that is deemed inappropriate will be confiscated"<p>

"What is considered inappropriate then?" the Dutchman has a hard time trying to think of how an article of clothing can be seen as inappropriate.

"Any article of clothing with images or text that has connotations to things that the doctors fear will trigger bad behaviour in yourself or other patients." Erik seems to be quoting some official asylum document with that tone of voice – Willem doesn't doubt the Nordic has read through the entire asylum library while locked up in here.

So far he's convinced the doctors in this asylum are more insane than the patients. "Like what exactly?" Almost worried about what will be deemed inappropriate. He was told to not wear too bright colours when he's in the garden – so his favourite orange football jersey was a big no-no.

Erik waves his hand lazily as he lists the various forbidden 'patterns' "Weapons, sports logos, psychedelic patterns, slogans, clowns..."

"Clowns too? You're joking..."

"Nope...I had this awesome t-shirt with a viking battle axe on it – they took that one away. Never got it back..." Erik sights sadly as he seems to mourn his favourite shirt. It makes for a rather comical image, but Willem can understand his sentiments – his favourite article is a scarf his sister knitted and having to part from it would be a killer.

"Wow...that's certainly strict." scratching his head he slowly begins to sketch a few flowers. He dreads asking the next question. He doesn't even know if Erik will tell him, yet he wants to know so very badly.

"What are the rooms like?"

The Norwegian ponders the question for a while, running his fingers over the pages in his book.

"A lot like this one, except there are no bookshelves or desks. The pillows and duvets are without covers, a precaution in case someone decides strangling themselves or others with a bedsheets is a bright idea"

"Sounds..unhygienic" in a place that deals with sick people (albeit not really physically sick) Willem would have though they'd be very keen on keeping high standers of hygiene. All the corridors smell of sterilising spirits at least...

Erik shakes his head  
>"They take everything from the mattress to the pillows and power wash and steam the whole pile every two weeks."<p>

All Willem can do is stare. He though Level 3 was bad enough already.

"I'm afraid to ask what Level 5 is like..."

"To be honest, all I know about level five is what Preben told me..."

"Who's Preben?"

"The guy who attacked his cousin with an axe...he's Danish..."

"Oh" not that it was a satisfactory answer he got, Willem simply couldn't think of a reply to that. It didn't help Erik was still speaking in that dead cold voice of his.

"Well, anyway...Preben is possibly the nicest guy in this place"

Willem frowned and gave Erik a playful punch to his shoulder

"Oi, are you replacing me?"

He actually found the though more frightening than he should have. He probably depended on the friendship with the Nordic male as much as he depended on him.

"Not at all...let me finish you idiot"

Willem frowns again but motions for Erik to continue.

"Well...Preben is really nice, always smiling – after a while he can get on your nerves. He's oblivious to any form of mockery or insults..."

"Let me guess...he was your best friend" the sarcasm in the Dutchman's voice is bitter and overflowing.

"Self proclaimed best friend, thank you very much..." Erik rolls his eyes and sights "But he's not as crazy as the doctors think"

"You mentioned he was drugged"

"Yeah...he likes to drink, and one day some guys figured they wanted to see him on drugs. So they slipped god-knows-what into his drink and ten minutes later he's broken one of those "in case of fire: break glass"-cases and is swinging the axe around at anyone getting to close. His cousin tried to overpower him, and he did manage...after getting a very large gash across his back that is..."

Willem shudders at the though "sounds unpleasant"  
>Yet it isn't the story that's the scariest part, it's the way Erik tells it. He much prefers the tale of the trolls who eat Christians than this story of fellow 'inmates' in the asylum. Erik's voice is no loner soothing and comforting – that's the scariest part of it all. He's speaking as if it's all so common and matter-of-fact, the only thing keeping him curious is his damn morbid curiosity wishing to be satisfied with gruesome tales.<p>

"Yes...Preben is so incredibly sorry for the incident. He's always so cocky and happy, but the second Berwald comes to visit him, he becomes this humble and broken person – it's frightening"

He shifts uncomfortable and runs a hand through his spiky hair, if Level 3 and 4 are so dead sterilised that he dreads what the answer to his next question will be "Level 5...what does Level 5 look like then?"

"Level five..." Erik scratches the back of his head. The small curl in the nape of his neck bobs up and down at the motion "Well...Preben described it as a white-painted hell. The bed even has leather straps...to keep your limbs secured and restrained during the night...walls and floors are padded and the only light is this soft-yellow hue that can only be regulated by the nurses or doctors from outside your room. And while Level four only has rules about clothing, Level five restricts any clothes of your own." He pick at one of the loose threads from his woolly sweater.

"Everything is provided by the staff and it's all white."

"That's not fair...nor does it sound like a place where you'll get better"

"No, it's not fair, but if you protest to loudly, on come the straight jacket..."

Willem subconsciously curls a little bit more up and wraps his arms around himself. The images his mind is conjuring up is truly frightening. It's all so alien and wrong. Little Alice went through the looking glass to find a world full of strange creatures who spoke nonsense. Right now Willem can see himself standing on one side of a grand mirror – and what is supposed to be his reflection is instead the Nordic male.

Willem wants to break the glass – free the other man.

However: if he breaks that final barrier between them, who knows what other more dangerous creatures he'll let slip into his own safe world.

Befriending Erik was a good idea, but for how much longer can he be sure of Erik's sanity? That cold uncaring voice is frightening - yet so understandable.

Perhaps; perhaps if he does it gently. If he slowly melts the glass (as if it was ice) instead of breaking it, he can rescue the Norwegian from this hell – then he'll close the gap and leave the place forever, never looking back at his own reflection.

Because his own reflection has for weeks haunted him. He knows he's gotten better, yet he still has those slightly sunken inn eyes that makes everyone know he's done illegal things. He's got a long way to go, and every time he sees a mirror he's reminded of just how far he had to sink before he realised he couldn't swim back to the clear surface.

He's so used to colours – so dependent on them, that these white washed walls would certainly be hell. The artists in him would long to fling large buckets of paint on the walls. Red, yellow, green, blue, pink, black – anything but a blank and boring canvas.

He needs to divert his attention, talk about anything else but this prison of the mind and body.

Erik seems to somehow catch on to his nervousness, because the Nordic man stops talking about Level 5 and goes quiet for a moment.

"Hey...Willem...can I ask you a question?"

"You just did..."

"Stop being a smart-ass..."

"Fine...yes you can ask me another question"

Erik rolls his eyes but resists sticking his tongue out at the taller male – childish antics aren't very dignified at the grand age of 28.

"How did you get that scar on your forehead?"

The Dutchman stiffens slightly – he had hoped to evade that question, because it's a stupid story that he used to tell to sometimes gain a little sympathy. It won't get sympathy out of Erik – the Norwegian has had it far worse than him, in so many aspects that the story becomes insignificant in comparison.

"Just a childhood accident...no awesome fights or battles, just naivety and perhaps some bullies"

"Wow, riveting...and such details. You blow my mind Willem"

"Shut up, not everyone is a story telling genius like you"

"Never know until you try"

"I was 8 okay? And some idiots made me fall. A jab to my pride more than anything" Willem frowned and crossed his arms in a slight huff.

Erik places his chin in the palm of his hand and leans closer

"Well...I'd like to know more none the less...I've entertained you for a while, can you not at lest return the favour?"

Oh how he dislikes Erik's logic – it's near impossible to argue against it.

Soon he finds himself telling Erik everything he can remember himself – and a few things Margaret told him when he woke up.

Erik listens with interest, never taking his eyes of the spiky-haired man except to occasionally close his eyes. Yet when his eyelids flutter open, his blue eyes are again focused on Willem's green ones.

* * *

><p><em>A.N:<em>

_Cliff hanger~ or maybe not. Take it as you want really._

_Cheers for the reviews so far, hope no one minds I seem to flood their in-boxes with story alerts._


	7. Chapter 7

_A.N: Song: simply the best – Tina turner, Word: Safety, Colour: yellow._

* * *

><p>He didn't think it possible, but telling Erik how he did get his scars was oddly therapeutic. Not even his parents knew how he gotten them all. All he told them was that he fell or something.<p>

Margaret had of course managed to find out about the one on his forehead when she brought home a certain Spaniard - who had been one of the offenders that day. Willem had the tanned man in a choke-hold for a good five minutes before releasing him.

Needless to say his sister had demanded to know why he held such a distance for her new boyfriend. Even if he was the oldest, his younger siblings always had some power over him.

Thus came the truth – and while she sympathised, she didn't agree he should still be bitter.

"I've never liked heights, I'm terrified of them really," even the though of climbing something high makes him a bit dizzy "So when they dared me to climb to the top of the wall, I didn't want to. Pride be damned, you know..."

Erik nodded but stayed quiet, and for a moment Willem can at least pretend someone sympathises and knows why this is a big deal to him.

"They were older than me, not by a lot. Two or three years perhaps...but I was eight, they seemed like giants back then."

"I bet you had the last laugh in that then, considering your current height..."

"Heh, yeah. I've outgrown them all now"

A small smirk becomes present on his features as he thinks how easy it is to beat the three off them up now-a-days.

"Revenge is sweet"

The Nordic male has a good point and the little odd jokes makes it so much easier to talk about it.

"I was fully prepared to just leave, ignore them and go home. It was then they said they'd find Margaret, and if I didn't climb the wall: they'd kidnap her" Willem frowns at the memory. Even if people doesn't believe him, he does care for his siblings – a lot more than he'd ever admit of course.

"You believed they'd be able to do such a thing?" Erik raises an eyebrow questioningly, obviously the cynic in him is having a hard time picturing Willem falling for such a stupid threat.

"I was eight. And I care for my siblings, I was just too naïve to really understand they never could have done anything like that."

"Fair enough. Any reason they picked on you?" Erik twirls his pen in-between his fingers as he listens to the story being re-told.

"I was an easy target I guess.."

"Considering how you currently look, I'd never peg you for the victim"

"That's what everyone else seems to believe. Probably the scars that do it"

"Scars? Plural? You have more?" Erik blinked and his deep blue eyes widened for a brief moment in surprise.

"Yeah," He nodded and pointed to the one on his forehead "this is just the most obvious one"

"So how did you get the other ones?" there is a genuine streak of curiosity to the blonde male's voice as he quietly voices his question.

"Let me put it this way: being addicted to drugs is dangerous, getting a hold of drugs when you get desperate is a whole other level of danger." Willem sights before straightening his back slightly.

Lifting his t-shirt up he reveals a rather long pink scar on his abdomen. It's healed up nicely considering the depth and length – Willem has to admit the surgeons did a god job all in all.

"Do I even dare ask how you got that one?" Erik leans ever so slightly forward to study the scar with more detail, Willem catches himself before he leans back in an subconscious effort to hide. Erik seems to be to absorbed in looking at the scar to even notice Willem is blushing ever-so-slightly from how close Erik is suddenly sitting.

"Knife wound, after the paranoid dealer though I'd tell the cops." He sights and deflates slightly - wincing as he suddenly feels a strange sensation on his abdomen.

"Ouch, looks painful..." Erik mumbles as he runs a pale finger over the light pink scar.

The taller male doesn't know what to say, nor does he quite know what to feel. It's a really odd sensation to have someone else touch his scar. His skin isn't as sensitive there, so it's as if Erik's finger is just barely ghosting over his skin; yet Willem can see Erik is touching him with more force than a light touch.

"W-What about you? Have you got any scars?" He finally manages to splutter out – not quite as dignified as he'd hoped it would sound.

"A few..." The Nordic male straightens up and leans away from Willem with a shrug.

"Erik, stop being so fucking vague."

Sometimes the Nordic male could really press all the wrong buttons and drive Willem far up those pasty white walls in annoyance.

"Fine..."

Erik unbuttons his shirt, letting it slide down and off his arms before turning around, his back facing Willem.

The Dutchman can't stop staring. For more than one reason really. Running down the Norwegian's back – at a slight angle – are four long scars. Claw marks.

"What the fuck..." he breathes out as he stops himself in trying to touch those scars.

"Svalbard isn't exactly the safest place on earth when it comes to wildlife."

"Do you mean...that..." Willem can't even formulate his sentences any more, he's too focused on the jagged pink scars on Erik's back – such a stark contrast to his pale and smooth skin.

"Polar bear..."

"Please tell me you're joking" because the thought of Erik going up against something as large and ferocious as a polar bear – and live to tell the tale – is mind-blowing.

"Wish I was actually" he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Willem counts 4 blonde strands of hair that fall down onto the bed in the process

"God damn it...you really can one-up every thing I've ever done" he wasn't really angry, just amazed at how Erik still had the strength to continue living.

"Well...to be honest, the idea of being in a fight with a human is more terrifying to me than a fight with an animal"

"Liar." He tried to sound angry, yet the words only come out as a slight huff. He didn't really want Erik's sympathy in such a way – it only annoyed him

"No...Animals attack for natural reasons. They're hungry, hurt, scared of you or you're between them and their offspring. Humans can attack for the simple reason that it's 'fun'. That scares me." A shiver ran down the Norwegian's back as he spoke.

"How did you reach such a conclusion?" Willem couldn't help himself. Reaching out he ran four fingers over the four scars on Erik's back; the smaller male froze immediately. Tracing them as if he was the polar bear – ripping up the Nordic male's back as if it was simply paper. Such tremendous force behind a bear – evident by the scars.

A few places Willem could almost feel Erik's ribs, and as Erik shivered and bent his back ever so slightly at the sensation of Willem's touch – the Dutchman could feel the vertebra in Erik's back where the scars ran from left-to-right down his back.

He really needed some more substantial food.

"Four years of living isolated from humans, only contact I got was a week or two once a year with my brother...I'm still re-learning a few things" Erik admitted with a sight as he slowly turned around to face Willem again. It didn't take long before his blue and white pinstriped shirt was once again buttoned up and covering his torso.

Suddenly a few more pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Erik wasn't used to speaking to other humans except his brother, so it was now a little bit more understandable why he always had that blank unreadable expression. After all: even Willem knew how smiling was often considered by animals as a threat; and not the friendly and caring gesture humans saw it as.

Moments of silence passed as Willem tried to wrap his head around what Erik had just told him. It was unbelievable really. He had never seen any real wild animals – save for the local zoo – so the concept of things in nature being deadly was foreign to him. He was Dutch, not Australian.

"How did you...survive?" After all, attacks by polar bears were no simple feat to survive.

" I had a gun...as required by law up there"

"Then why didn't you shoot when you first saw it?" Something that large and scary comes towards you, it would make sense to shoot it.

"It was a female bear...she had two cubs..."

Erik casts his glance to his feet, not bothering meeting the Dutchman's eyes as he speaks.

"I by accident came between her and her offspring...but that was my fault so I didn't want to shoot her."

"But you did, that's why you're still alive...right?"

Erik shook his head.

"No, I finally fired a warning shot towards her then threw my jacket at the ground and ran for my life...at some point I threw my gloves, hat and scarf off too...that's probably what saved me"

"What?" Willem blinked in shock and confusion. "What does stripping have to do with surviving?"

"It's the best way to distract a polar bear...it stops to sniff at each article of clothing you discard"

"But isn't that as equally dangerous? Spitsbergen is fucking freezing..."

"Yeah, hence why I ran like fuck. I thankfully wasn't to far away from my weather station, but it took an hour before the doctors could come pick me up and patch my back up. That's why the scars are so jagged and big...immediate treatment would have made them more like yours" he sighted and leant against the wall.

"I think they look pretty cool actually, especially when I know why you have them" Willem smiled as he spotted the faintest blush appear on Erik's cheeks at the compliment.

"Umm...thanks..." the Nordic scratched the back of his head nervously, this attention was so new and alien to him – he didn't really know how to respond.

It was odd Willem decided. That it was only little by little that he was unravelling the mystery of Erik's personalty. For each bit of information he gave the Nordic, he would in turn get information back. Marianne had been right from the start.

Erik was a friend. He just hadn't realised just how much of an important person the Nordic had become so quickly.

* * *

><p>A.N:<p>

Sorry about the delay on this chapter, but thank you all who have reviewed, faved and watched this story! Tusen takk!


	8. Chapter 8

_Song: Fame – Fame soundtrack. Colour: Beige Word: treasure_

* * *

><p>The corridor was a horrible grey washed yellow; giving it a murky and gloomy look. Willem would actually have preferred it to be white like the rest of the place but he didn't dare voice his opinion. The nurse in front of him was making polite talk, telling him how she was going to make dinner for her dear older brother when he came home. He couldn't help but note her last name.<p>

Zwingli.

Shit, that had been the police officer who had arrested him once. Willem tried to erase that particular painful memory from his mind as he followed after the young blonde nurse. The Swiss man had been significantly shorter than him, but man; could that guy punch. Not one of his proudest moments in life.

Lilli - or was it Lilly? Willem honestly hadn't actually caught her name, but it seemed to fit her – had guided him to the end of the corridor, knocking once she peeked in the door before withdrawing.

"They're ready for you Mr van Gent! Go straight in" the woman chirped happily and took a step aside to allow him to enter the office.

It was a well lit office with several old paintings and some well taken care of plants jotted around to make it a more pleasant place. It still intimidated the hell out of him – pleasantries be damned.

10 months, two weeks and 3 days ago he'd been in the very same office.

No doubt had Erik been here too; many, many years ago.

Yet this time he wouldn't be escorted to his room and kept an eye on – not if this went according to plan.

A dark haired man, his hair slicked back and with some thin-rimmed glasses balancing on his nose rose as Willem entered,

"Good day Herr van Gent, please have a seat"

The man gestured towards a leather and Mahogany chair sitting in front of his large and intricately carved desk.

"Thank you Doctor Edelstein, and good day Nurse Héderváry**."** Willem nodded politely towards the brunette woman sitting to the right of the Austrian doctor. The woman smiled sweetly at him in reply and flipped though a few of the sheets on her clip board.

He was nervous, incredibly nervous. If he failed this review he would have to stay at the rehabilitation centre for god-knew how many more months.

And despite how much company Erik provided – Willem wanted his freedom.

"Well then Willem, tell us; how do you think you are faring now?"

Fuck, he had dreaded this question.

He was supposed to tell them how he no longer felt a craving for anything – that he was completely rehabilitated and could re-join a normal society once more.

However; Willem would never be fully healed.

How could he explain that there was that little empty space in his life that he had never knew how to fill, or with what? He'd temporarily found comfort in the drugs, but even those could never fill that steadily growing crevice in his heart. He might not ever use drugs to fill that emptiness again, but he wasn't sure he was fully healed.

"I believe I am fully recovered." he lied.

He was probably as healed as Erik was. What the doctor wouldn't understand was that he'd never get better staying here.

That went for both him and the Nordic.

"No cravings?" The doctor asked as he folded his hands and studied Willem closely. He'd managed to put on a little bit more weight and the dark circles under his eyes were hardly noticeable any more. If someone passed him on the street now they'd probably just peg him for someone who had worked hard the entire day.

He had improved. Just not a 100%.

The Doctors seemed able to stare right into the very core of his soul, seeing ever good and bad deed he'd ever done. If this was how judgement was done when he died – Willem would most certainly be sent straight to hell.

"I still take the occasional cigarette, but nothing else." he answered truthfully, trying not to squirm in his seat. He could feel his palms sweating and it didn't help one bit that every time he spoke, the nurse jotted down or crossed something off on her clipboard. He was being evaluated. He knew that. Yet it was still terrifying.

It was like being on trial.

With no defence attorney or anything. The only evidence he had was his own words. Sadly those were no guarantee for freedom.

He could – just like Erik - spend his entire life in this place, never to see the outside of those tall walls ever again. It was mind-numbingly frightful.

If he was never to be free, why live?

"Let me see your arms..."

Willem rolled his sleeves up and held his arms in front of him for inspection. The Doctor only glanced at them while nurse Héderváry rose from her seat and scrutinized them further.

The dark haired woman ran a finger over them before smiling happily.

"Well Willem, you certainly bear no new scars."

His snarky side of his personality wanted to tell her that of course he didn't have new ones. It was impossible to get any drugs inside this facility. Unless one stole from the medicine room, but that place was so heavily guarded they might as well store nuclear war heads and the cure for death in that room.

"I've stayed away ma'am..." he courteously replied, earning a big smile form the nurse as she took a seat once again.

"I hear you've spent a lot of time with Mr. Sørensen on level 3...why is that?"

Willem could feel the sweat on the back of his neck. What did his friendship with the Nordic male have to do with his review? Perhaps they thought he saw things like Erik did?

"I just like a bit of company, we have some similar interests...we're...friends"

It was the truth, just toned down a little. He didn't feel like explaining to the nurse and doctor just how much the blonde male's company meant to him – or just how much fun the two had when making the fairytale book.

"Just friends...I see..."

Willem tried his hardest not to stare, what that a look of disappointment on the nurses' face?

"Elizaveta...please do not ask Mr Van Gent such questions, it has nothing to do with this meeting." The doctor pushed his glasses further up on his nose and continued scanning the folder's contents in front of him.

Willem let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Thank god that wasn't a vital question of some sort. It was still an odd thing to ask. Not to mention the disappointed look and tone of the nurse. Honestly, what had that woman been picturing?

Him and Erik...?

Oh God. He wanted to face palm, blush, run and hide and never show his face again. Why wasn't this nurse locked up herself?

"Mr Van Gent...I asked you a question"

Willem blinked at the doctor, before trying to smile weakly.

"Sorry, I zoned out a bit there..."

The nurse giggled silently with a sly smile, unsettling the Dutchman much more than he'd though it would. It was as if she knew something no one else did.

"Quite all right...I'll ask again...You are aware that even if you deem you well enough to go home, you will have to come back for tests to prove you are, indeed, drug free?"

"Yeah...one of the nurses said it was every 6 months. Is that correct?"

He shifted slightly in his chair, desperately wanting to get out of here and get his stuff – phone his sister and then walk out those heavy iron gates a free man.

"That is partly correct..." Doctor Edelstein shuffled through the stack of papers before hitting the right one he wanted, holding it up he motioned for Willem to take the yellow piece of paper.

Scanning the photocopy he quickly saw what the 'rules' were.

"So I have to come back in three weeks...then wait another three weeks..."

Willem continued reading, his eyes darting back and forward as he read the document carefully – scanning for small print.

"then if I pass both those 'tests' I only need to come back after 6 months...?"

"Correct." The dark haired male nodded and handed Willem a pen.

"Of course, after those six months have passed and you pass that test too, you'll only need to come back once a year." Elizaveta chirped happily, adjusting the flower ornament in her hair with her delicate and well manicured fingers.

"I see, that won't be a problem."

Finding the dotted line at the bottom he signed his name with cursive letters, handing the form and pen back.

"We're glad to hear that Willem."

"You can go pack your stuff, we'll make sure the receptionist have some of your medicine ready for you when you leave" Nurse Héderváry smiled and crossed of a few things on her clip-board.

"Thank you..." Standing up from his chair he extended a hand to the doctor

"Thanks for...helping me."

"You're welcome...we'll hopefully not see you back here, apart from your tests..."

"Yeah..hopefully." Willem smiled and shook the doctors hand.

Making his way out the door he spotted the young nurse who'd shown him the way earlier.

"How did it go Mr Van Gent?"

"I'm free..."

"Oh that's great!" The petite woman clapped her hands and smiled brightly "You can go home now! I bet your sister will be so happy!"

"Yeah, bet she will..."

Suddenly a though struck him.

"Umm...can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Am I allowed to visit others patients here...even if I'm no longer residing here?"

"Are you thinking of Erik?"

Willem cursed under his breath, how the hell did everyone seem to guess his intentions?

"Yeah.." he finally admitted, scratching the back of his head as he tried to avert his eyes from Nurse Zwingli.

"Well, there is nothing against the rules about that. I'm sure he will appreciate the company."

"Yeah...he probably will."

Willem didn't even know how to tell Erik this. It felt wrong to suddenly just show up in his door and tell him he was a free man. While he could walk out with all his belongings, Erik would stay behind. It wasn't fair.

He didn't say anything as he walked back to his room, even as he packed all his belongings into a suitcase, Willem was silent.

Margaret had been informed of his release and would be picking him up around six o'clock.

That left him about one hour left to tell Erik he was leaving.

One hour wasn't really enough.

Staring at his now empty and anonymous room, he blinked in disbelief. It was odd to think he was finally going home. When he first walked through the gates, he never thought he'd be allowed back out. Yet here he was, soon-to-be a free man once again.

It took him much longer than usual to get to Erik's room. Usually he walked with quick steps, but not today. His head was spinning with questions still unanswered.

Taking a deep breath he knocked twice on the Nordic's door before stepping inside.

"Hallo Willem" Erik smiled brightly from his usual spot on the bed, the large faery tale book firmly planted across his lap.

"Hallo Erik..."

"Something the matter?" Erik gave him a worried look.

Fuck. Damn that man and his ability to read Willem like an open book.

"No, not really..." Willem took a deep breath "I'm being released today.."

Erik stared. Yet he couldn't read the blonde male's emotions in those deep blue eyes, it was as if they had become even duller.

Then suddenly a wide smile appeared on his lips.

"That's great Willem. Congratulations." Erik quickly stood up and extended his hand to Willem "I'm so happy for you."

Willem carefully takes the outstretched hand, noticing the slight tremble in Erik's fingers as he squeezed the shorter male's hand. He wants to take him with him, he's convinced Erik has a better chance at getting better living outside of the asylum.

"I'll visit you...a lot..I promise" he mumbles, staring at his feet as he tightens his grip around Erik's smaller hand.

"Don't."

He snaps his head up and stared in shock at Erik.

"What...what did you say?" His voice shaky - his chest tightening up, why doesn't Erik want his company? Did he do something wrong? Are they not friends?

Or perhaps it was just his wishful thinking all along?

Erik sighs, but he doesn't avert his gaze. Their eyes lock and for a brief moment Willem can see the sadness in his friends eyes.

"Willem, this place is a nightmare...you don't want to come back here any more than you have to..."

"But what about you...?"

"Heh, I'll be fine...still got my faeries to keep me company" Erik smiles and gives his hand a small squeeze.

It's not the words, nor is it the tone he uses – it's the sincerity behind that comment that truly gets to him. Erik isn't joking.

The knowledge that Erik will once again shut himself away and converse with the things that brought him here in the first place is heartbreaking.

"Idiot." he mutters before pulling the shorter male into a tight hug.

Willem can feel how Erik immediately tenses at the sudden close contact but he doesn't let go. And to his surprise, Erik doesn't push away once he relaxes. Instead he returns the hug, burring his face in the nook of Willem's neck.

They don't speak a word, time seems to stand still.

After a while Willem looses count of how many minutes and seconds it's been.

And for once: it doesn't bother him.

Because if he keeps counting he'll know just how limited his time right now is. Instead he can for just a few more minutes pretend this doesn't have to end.

"Take the book" Erik mumbles as his fingers grip Willem's shirt tightly "we still haven't shown it to Margaret..."

"Idiot, we're supposed to show her that together."

"Yeah well, that's not happing."

"Fuck you and your pessimism."

Erik laughs into Willem's shirt before pulling back, hands still resting on the taller male's hips.

"The book is my dreams, my nightmares and my madness. No nightmares of yours reside in that book, so you keep it. Just think of me while you read it, okay?"

Erik smiles as he speaks, yet Willem knows him well enough to see the sadness still present. However, he nods in agreement – he can't refuse such a gift.

"Fine, I'll take the book. One one condition: I get to come and visit you. No locking yourself up, no self pity and no more talking to faeries when you get bored. If you need to talk; write me a letter."

A half hearted chuckle and a nod is all he gets back.

Willem sighs.

"Idiot."

He leans down ever so slightly, pressing his lips' to Erik's.

The Nordic male gasps in surprise before he slowly and with unsure actions returns the kiss.

They stand alone in silence, breaking away only when they can hear footsteps coming down the hallway. Pulling away Willem can see the rather prominent blush on Erik's face – no doubt does it match his own. Giving the nordic's hand a final squeeze he takes the large leather bound book; hugging it close to him as he gives Erik one last kiss.

"I'll see you around Erik."

"Yeah..." the Nordic replies breathlessly "see you around."

~~~~~~-X-~~~~~~

Willem walks out of the large iron gates with a large orange bag over his shoulder and the book under his arm.

Waiting for him outside the gates is his sister.

She barely allows him to put down his bag before she hugs him so tightly Willem swears he can feel a rib break.

"Let's go home."

The Dutchman only nods as he gets into his sisters car, staring back at the asylum worriedly as the car pulls away from the parking place.

Three weeks to stay drug free before the next review.

In the meantime he must be able to visit Erik.

If not; those three weeks will be harder than any rehabilitation process at the asylum.

* * *

><p><em>A.N:<em>

_sooooo...I hope that satisfied everyone._

_this isn't the end - at least one more chapter will follow. I am just debating what ending I want it to have (currently a lot of people via PM's have made me want to give this story a 'depressing' ending. but I'll leave the poll up for a while longer to see what I'll do )_

_meanwhile: hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I struggled to write it._


	9. Chapter 9

_A.N: Sorry for the long wait - here comes the begining of the end. It won't be happy._

* * *

><p>Bills, documents, more bills, papers to sign, meeting to attend, family to see and talk to...<p>

Willem thinks he's about to murder someone.

Two weeks.

Two weeks since he walked out of the asylum a free man. Two weeks of feeling more like a prisoner than ever before.

Sighing he glances at the clock on the wall, cursing loudly as he realises that once again he has no time at all to visit Erik.

Little miss Zwingli didn't inform him that he had to abide by strict visitors times and rules – something that greatly conflicts with his already incredibly hectic schedule.

He's tried a grand total of 8 times. Each one a failure.

One nurse snappily told him to leave the other patients alone and disappear.

Odd how they treat him differently when he's no longer their responsibility...

He's sent letters. Every day.

No reply yet.

Tightening his grip around his pencil he decides to try again. Perhaps Erik only is allowed mail every once in a while? He never got letters before, so Willem doesn't know about the procedure.

His own mail had to be screened and scrutinised – in case he smuggled drugs inside to the asylum.

Not that he'd see why Erik would do that. Some hallucinogenic drugs wouldn't do much more harm than what his broken mind already has been through.

"_Erik_

_Sorry. Tried visiting, but they still don't allow me to visit you out of hours, and I've never seen so much paperwork in my life._

_Don't worry though – they can't get rid of me that easily._

_Yours_

_Willem"_

The Dutchman stares at the letter before smiling to himself; drawing a few flowers in the corner.

He's sure Erik will appreciate that.

Placing the letter in his briefcase for posting tomorrow he heads downstairs to the kitchen for a bite to eat before his sister comes to yell at him about getting a proper night's sleep.

Another week of mountains of paperwork passes – this time he will manage to see the Nordic man, he's adamant on it. His review with the 'asylum' is at 9.

The interview will only be a short formality and then there are blood samples to take.

At most he'll be occupied for two hours. Visiting hours are from 10 till 2.

he's got plenty of time.

Walking down the disgusting beige corridor he feels a lot more confident than last time.

He's not touched anything deemed illegal for three weeks. Even alcohol and cigarettes have been cut back drastically.

His cousin Gilbert had to do a double take when Willem refused that second beer. Even Ludwig lost his composure at his decline for a drink as Margaret had to invent some excuse about his medication and mixing alcohol being frowned upon, lest should their German-born cousins try to pour more alcohol down his throat to 'cure' him.

The medication are for sleepless nights and to still the worst cravings should he get them – mixing them with alcohol won't do much more than make him a bit more sleepy. He doesn't want to drink alcohol for the simple reason that in his mind it's unfair.

Erik told him he really loved having a drink every now and then. Beer, vodka and some strange brown liquid called Aquavit. Whenever someone offers Willem a drink his mind wanders back to Erik and the asylum and it almost makes him physically sick.

He knows Erik would probably punch him for thinking like this, but he can't help it. He can't truly enjoy himself when the knowledge of Erik still being a prisoner is so clearly imprinted in his mind.

It's the young blonde nurse who takes the blood sample, making polite conversation as always. He doesn't have anything against her. She's nothing short of adorable.

However; he couldn't care less about her policeman brother. All he wants is to see Erik again.

Three whole weeks is far too long.

As he rubs the small band-aid on his arm, he stares intently at the door. He has no patience right now with anyone. They've kept him for too long already. 4 minutes and 55 seconds longer than needed.

"There, all done Mr Van Gent. You can go home now."

The nurse smiles sweetly at him as she puts away the blood samples in what he figures is some form of cooler.

"Home? No way...I'm visiting Erik."

The young girl freezes and stares at him with wide eyes.

"I-I'm afraid that's impossible."

"Impossible? What the fuck are you on about? Of course I can visit him! You said so before I left" Willem snarls as he stands up to tower over the petite woman. He's lost every once of polite patience he had – this is simply ridiculous.

Nurse Zwingly seems to shake out of fear as she tries to meet his eyes. As soon as she catches a glimpse of them her head snaps back down, staring at her feet as she takes a step backwards. Like a baby rabbit face to face with a lion.

"I'm sorry, I thought you had been informed..."

"Informed about what?" Willem doesn't like where this conversation is going.

The nurse fidgets nervously before meeting his eyes – her own on the brink of tears.

"Mr Sørensen is no longer here."

That short and simple sentence is enough to send Willem entire word crashing down.

It's like someone released a giant flood over his life, killing everything in it's wake.

The tall Dutchman blinks and shakes his head – he must be dreaming.

"You're lying...you have to be...he put you up to this...right? This is all a joke!"

But the look in the nurse's eyes tell him the truth – it's not a lie. Erik really is gone.

Willem can feel his chest tighten up as the room starts to spin – his vision darkening at the edges.

"Mr Van Gent!"

He snaps out of it at the sound of her distressed cry. Steadying himself on the chair, he narrowly avoid sinking down in it.

"I'm so sorry...I...I really did think you had been informed already..."

Willem swallows the lump in his throat before shaking his head.

"Oh.." comes the soft reply from Nurse Zwingli. There are no words of comfort – because right now she can't think of how to comfort that large and to her eyes: terrifying man.

"I...I need to sit down."

"Of course." comes the understanding reply as Willem doesn't even care for the chair, simply slumping down onto the floor – leaning heavily against the wall as he cradles his head in his hands.

The young nurse seem to be unable to stand still, fidgeting a lot as she shifts her weight from one foot to another. Usually he'd tell her to stop, but he can't bring himself to speak right now – his voice would only betray him.

After 5 minutes and 49 seconds the nurse decides she needs to do something. Willem can't stay in this room all day.

"D-Did you know he had a brother?"

Willem only nods.

"Do you know where he is?" she asks softly.

He shakes his head.

"Then...then that makes you his closest family..."

That takes him by surprise.

"What do you mean? I'm not family..."

"You're the closest he has..."

"Bullshit. He has a brother."

"Yes, but we were unable to contact him – no one knows where he is."

The blonde girl kneels down in front of him, trying her best to smile sweetly.

Willem remembers Erik's words. He's dead to his brother. Emil probably has his own life perfectly unaware his brother has spent the last few years alive in the asylum.

"Okay, you can't find him, but what does that matter anyway? He's dead! What do you want from me?"

Lilli flinches before standing up straight, retrieving some keys from her uniform-pockets.

"Erik had possessions...if you're his closest 'kin' they then befall to you."

Willem stares is shock. Shaking his head he gets back on his feet; albeit very slowly – as if he's having to relearn everything about controlling his own body's movements. The way she uses to word 'kin' makes him blush – it's laden with more than just an implication of friendship. No, it holds much more emotions and feelings than a simple word of friendship. And it's true: Erik was – no; is, more than a friend. He can't bring himself to think in the past tense. Dead or not, Erik is still someone close to him.

"Come on...I'll take you to the storage room."

He follows after her in silence, his mind still not able to process Erik is gone – forever.

The storage room is in the basement, the door being a thick steel one with 'Storage' crudely painted onto it. The nurse fumbles with her keys, but eventually manages to unlock the door – however; Willem has to help her open it when her petite body doesn't amount to enough strength to move the heavy vault door.

'Bomb shelter' he thinks to himself once he sees the inside of the 'storage' room. It's definitively an old bomb shelter, the thick door only further proof as they step over the high threshold.

Lilli finds the few cardboard boxes with Erik's possessions quickly – they're all the way in the front of the room, other boxes further back covered with so much dust Willem has to try his best not to stare at them. It's clear this is a place to store and forget things.

But Willem isn't going to forget Erik any time soon.

Kneeling down next to the boxes he carefully pries them open. The first one is full of Erik's clothes. Blinking he pulls out a black t-shirt, and despite the terrible news he has to smile.

A battle axe adorns the front of the t-shirt.

"See Erik...they kept it safe for you." he mumbles as he folds the garment carefully up before placing it back with the rest.

With slow and careful movements he opens the next box, 'smiling' back at him is the picture of Erik and Emil. Brushing over the old glass he stares at the picture for a long time. He's glad the young woman hasn't said anything, instead waiting patiently for him to finish – he appreciates that a lot.

He needs time. Time to think and sort his thoughts out.

Prying the old photograph out of it's frame he carefully slides it into his coat's inner-pocket, taking great care not to fold the photograph. It's the only picture he now has of Erik.

He'll get a new frame for it, make sure to keep it out of strong sunlight – and never let anyone else touch it.

His eyes wander back to the box, frowning as he sees the painting he gave the Nordic male. Picking it up he studies it carefully; he's still rather proud of it. Flipping it around he does a double take when he notices his signature is not the only thing written on the back of the canvas.

Erik's added something.

His handwriting neat but small; Willem narrows his eyes and reads it out loud to himself.

"_Thank you for everything – Erik"_

Taking a deep breath he runs his fingers over the small words. The lump in his throat growing bigger as his eyes sting, threatening with a flood of tears should he not get his emotions under control.

Taking a deep breath, Willem manges to keep the tears at bay as he puts the painting carefully down again.

There's a large brown envelope at the bottom of the cardboard box, with only the word 'Takk' scribbled onto it.

It's bulging with what appears to be paper; and once he opens it his suspicion is confirmed.

However; it's not just paper – it's his own letters to Erik.

Each and every single one is there. He counts them all carefully, rather surprised over how worn they all look despite being relatively new – Erik must have read them over and over again.

Out of the entire pile there is only one letter that doesn't belong. It's written on a different type of paper and not in an envelope like the others, instead it's folded in two with the word 'Willem' neatly written on one side.

For what seems like ages he simply stares at the piece of paper, before he slowly unfolds it. It's dated only 3 days ago. Reading the words inside with scrutiny Willem tries to not think too much about how recently this was written.

"_Dear Willem_

_I presume you are angry at me, perhaps you even hate or resent me for what I have done._

_I will not ask for your forgiveness, I certainly am not worthy of it._

_Yet I wish to thank you._

_You made these past months worth living._

_Perhaps I'll see you again._

_Yours always_

_Erik Alexander Sørensen"_

Willem stares at the neat handwriting – re-reading the letter again and again.

What he did... No, Willem can't hate him for it – yet he can't forgive him either.

It hurts when he breathes to think that Erik ended his own life – no warning, no hints: no nothing.  
>The Norseman never cried for help or asked to be saved. It's as if he already had it all planned out.<p>

"Nurse...?" He carefully turns to the petite woman waiting outside "Was...was Erik on any antidepressants?" he inquires with a shaky voice

The young woman looks around the empty cellar before nodding, as if she's worried telling him it will perhaps breach some code of conduct.

"He was. He went off them while you were here, but then had to go back on them when you left..." she admits with a hint of sadness in her voice.

Willem feels his chest tighten at her words.

Erik didn't need antidepressants as long as he had been here...the realisation is warming and guilt-inducing all at the same time.

He's happy he somehow did manage to brighten the cold Nordic's life – even for just a short while; yet he feels guilty for leaving.

Willem can't help but feel that somehow Erik might still be alive had he not left.

There are so many questions still left unanswered as he starts to move the boxes out of the store room.

With the help of some of the nurses Willem loads Erik's stuff in the back of the car – he'll sort through it all when he comes home. Right now he just wants to get away from the asylum and the terrible news he's received.

The local graveyard is only a short drive away from here – it's easy to find.

Erik's eternal resting place isn't difficult to spot either, the loose and dark soil a contrast to the other more overgrown and green graves.

His feet shuffle along the short grass towards the grave. The grey slab of stone resembling a mountain in it's shape, the Nordic's name neatly carved into the stone for then to be painted in with silver paint. It's a beautiful grave – someone has laid little wild-flowers on it, and a grave-candle is still burning to the left of the stone. Probably the work of one of the nurses.

For a long time he simply stares at the grave, not even caring as little drops of water start to fall around him.

"Why?" he whispers, not to himself – but to Erik.

"Why?" louder this time.

"Why the fuck did you do this!" his voice raised in anger as he stomps his foot angrily down into the soft grass, leaving a deep imprint of his boot.

"Did you not consider my feelings? Did you not care about me? Your brother? Anyone!" he screams at the grave, fists clenched tightly.

"You fucking egoistical son of a whore!" Willem yells angrily and with all the strength he can muster he kicks the headstone, the grey slab shifting from 90 degrees to 60 from the sheer force of his kick.

Staring at the crooked gravestone, Willem sinks to his knees. His entire body deflates as if he's a balloon loosing it's air.

With shaky hands he pulls the gravestone upright again, embracing it once it's straight.

"I'm sorry, please Erik. You can't do this. You can't leave me alone...not now...not ever." he whispers as the tears finally roll down his cheeks.

There is no way he can hold them back any more as he grips the loose soil tightly, his entire body shaking as he sobs loudly over the Norseman's grave.

It's hours later when he finally gets back into his car, coat soaked by the rain and mud-stains all over his trousers.

All of Erik's belongings are in the back of his car – and even if there are some things Willem will want to keep as a memory himself he knows that somewhere out there is Erik's little brother – and God knows he deserves to at least know his brother is gone.

Revving the car to life, Willem swears he'll find Emil – whatever it takes, he'll do it.

* * *

><p><em>A.N:<em>

_so this is the depressing outcome (because it worked a lot better) If I have the time then a more happy version will be posted at a later time. *cue angry reviews? D: hope not *_


	10. Chapter 10

It takes him 4 weeks and 2 days.

4 weeks of endless phone calls, e-mails and showing up to random government offices dotted about the country..

But finally he has it.

Standing in the driveway of a small red-painted wooden house, Willem glances at the piece of paper in his hands. This should be the right address.

Ringing the doorbell he takes a step back and waits patiently.

He can hear someone running down the stairs, but nothing prepares him for the sight that meets him when the door is opened.

A young boy with the hair of an old man stands in the doorway with such a bewildered expression it would have made Willem grin in a normal situation.

But this isn't a normal situation – and the teenager in front of him is no ordinary boy.

The Dutchman takes a sharp intake of breath in surprise as he almost stumbles backwards. The boy from the picture has grown up. From a shy smiling 7 year old in the old picture to a confused boy of 18.

Yet there is no doubt it's the same person.

And there is no doubt this is Erik's younger brother.

"Emil?" Willem shakily manages to ask.

The boy nods and looks up at the taller male with a mix of curiosity and worry.

Willem can't hold back, with quick movements he's warped his strong arms around the young male's waist, effectively picking the teen up from the ground as he hugs him tightly.

Emil stiffens in fear and tries to push away from this stranger hugging him.

"Let me go!" he shouts and tries to wriggle free of the dutchman's strong grasp.

As suddenly as the urge hit him, it is gone and Willem becomes aware of what he's doing and quickly puts the boy down.

The second Emil's feet touch the ground he scurries back inside and slams to door in the taller male's face.

The Dutchman stands there bewildered for a moment before he slams his fist against the door.

"No! Come back...I'm sorry! Please..."

His breath hitches in his throat again – Emil looks so much like Erik.

His hair is a good few shades lighter, and his eyes have an almost purple hue to them.

However: disregarding those small facts, the two look very much alike.

The height, structure of their bones – even their facial features are frightfully similar. The Emil standing here in front of him today looks just like the 18 year old Erik from the picture.

Willem's shoulders shake as he bangs his fists against the door again, frustration and anger built up for weeks taken out on the poor door.

"Emil...please. I need to talk to you. Your brother..."

He doesn't get to finish his sentence as the door suddenly flies open again. Emil staring at him with wide eyes.

"My...my brother?" the white haired teen looks confused.

Willem bites the bottom of his lip as he diverts his gaze away from the younger male – lest should the urge to hug him take over his body once again.

"He...He passed away."

"What do you mean he's passed away? I knew that already. If you came here to re-open old wounds...then fuck you: You can take your leave." Emil spits angrily, his violet eyes glinting with anger.

"Old...wounds?" Willem blinks. It's been four weeks, not four years.

"How can it be old wounds...he...he died roughly four weeks ago. They said they hadn't been able to inform you."

This time it's Emil's turn to freeze in shock.

"Wh-what did you say?" the anger is gone, replaced by a nervous stammer

"I said that it's only four weeks since Erik's death..."

"That...that's impossible. Aunty and Uncle told me he died 3 years ago..."

"No...they lied to you. Erik's been in the asylum..." Erik was right: their aunt and uncle did tell Emil a lie – perhaps to protect the younger boy. That doesn't make it more right in his mind. Especially when Erik was well enough to understand that he was never allowed to see his brother again.

Willem reaches into his bag and pulls out the large leather bound book, handing it carefully over to Emil.

The young male shakily accepts it, opening it's cover to the front page, his eyes darting back and forward as he reads the dedication out loud

"_To my precious little brother Emil; whom I can not be with physically, but who I will forever remain loyal in spirit. _

_Klem _

_Erik"_

Emil's eyes sting as he reads the dedication, even after all those years he can still recognise his older brothers handwriting.

But what makes the tears fall is the date.

"This is...?"

"Two months ago, yes."

Emil sinks down onto the porch, the book clutched tightly to his chest as he cries silently. Willem shifts awkwardly from foot to foot until he finally decides to help the teen up onto his feet and into the living room.

The two males don't speak for several moments.

Willem has had time to process the knowledge of Erik's death. For Emil it's all new again – he needs time, and Willem knows to respect that need.

Instead he busies himself with studying the living room.

It's decorated with a lot of pictures that on closer inspection reveal to be several of Erik and Emil up though the years.

The tall Dutchman smiles to himself as he traces the figure of Erik in each and every photograph.

The young smiling blonde boy on his first day of school – the proud look on his face as he holds his newborn baby brother and the heart warming picture of the two brothers in front of a fireplace, Erik seeming to be reading a story for his much younger brother.

Feeling a gentle tap on his back, he turns around to face a still sniffling and slightly red-eyed youth.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Willem nods and motions for the two of them to take a seat.

Emil takes his seat next to the tall male carefully, still clutching the large leather-bound storybook as if his life depended on it.

"How did you know my brother?" he finally inquires with an uncertain voice.

"Met him at the asylum." he replies truthfully – too late realising that that was perhaps not the best way to phrase the answer.

Emil visibly shuffles further away from him, eyeing the much taller male with suspicion and a hint of fear.

"Hey...take it easy – I'm not crazy."

"Neither was Erik at first..." Emil retorts back before drawing his feet up and under him.

Shrugging of his jacket, Willem stretches his arms out for Emil to inspect – the whole process feels familiar as the younger male moves closer to traces his fingers along one of the scars.

"Different wards at the asylum, but it's still the place I met him."

"Why did you come here?"

"Because I thought you had the right to know..."

"He's been dead in my world for the last 3 years..." the white haired youth whispers quietly as he casts his gaze away from Willem.

"And he knew that – and still missed you every single day." Willem frowned slightly and pulled out the photograph of the two brothers "This was the only picture he had...he took great care of it."

Emil blinks as he takes the picture presented to him, the tears from before threatening once again to re-surface as he studies the old and worn photograph.

"I hate him."

Willem flinches at the words – it hurts to hear Emil utter such words towards Erik.

"Yo-you what?" he stammers in disbelief, not wanting to acknowledge what the white haired youth just said.

"I hate him. Or more correctly: hated him."

Willem can't see Emil's face as the younger male curls up around himself on the sofa – hiding his face from the tall Dutchman as he continues to speak in muffled word.

"He left me...he left when he had promised he never would. All because he couldn't stop talking to his stupid faeries when he was in hospital."

Another piece in the puzzle falls into place. Erik told him about being attacked by a polar bear – it was most likely while being treated for the wounds that the staff found him to be schizophrenic.

Willem carefully reaches out to place a hand on the Icelandic male's head, ruffing his hair lightly.

"He never wanted to leave you...several of the stories in the book have one common theme: someone being lost and only wanting to go back home to their loved ones. Erik never meant to leave you"

"But he still did." Emil's sniffles soften the bitter tone of his voice.

There is no words he can say to comfort the teen – and after several minutes of uncomfortable silence, Willem stands up from the sofa.

"Where are you going?" Emil suddenly inquires as he sees the tall man make his way out of the living room.

"Home...I've done what I came to do...whether you want to see your brothers grave is your decision..."

Emil considers his words but doesn't move from his spot on the sofa.

With a sigh Willem starts to put his coat and shoes back on – this meeting didn't go the way he intended, yet he wasn't sure how it would go from the beginning.

At least he found Emil. And that was really all he promised to do.

And at least he can go home and sleep peacefully knowing that Erik's remaining family knows of his final resting place.

"Hey"

Willem turns around as he feels a tug at his coat.

Emil is staring at the floor – book still clutched against his chest – Willem waits for the boy to speak. Just like Erik he needs time to find the right words and want to talk.

"Can...can you take me to his grave?"

Willem lets a small smile slip as he waits for Emil to get ready – despite the silence in the car, it doesn't feel awkward anymore. Both men lost in their own thoughts.

He stands only a few centimetres away from Emil as the white haired youth kneels down by his brothers grave – mumbling something in a language Willem has no hope in comprehending.

But he doesn't have to. He can hear the hurt, the love and the pain of his loss none the less. Sadness is universal.

One does not need a degree in another language to understand someone is mourning.

Eventually he kneels down next to him – mumbling some words at Erik's grave in his own language. When Emil turn to face him with a confused expression and tears in his eyes, Willem only smiles softly and places a hand on the shorter male's shoulder.

It's all the teen needs as he goes back to staring at the grave – the faintest of a smile creeping onto his features as he finally understands one thing:

Erik had someone special in his life – someone who still considers him special.

And that's all Emil needs to know. All he needs to remember.

Someone loves his brother as much as he did – if not more.

And god knows Erik deserves such a thing.

* * *

><p><em>A.N:<em>

_Not sure myself if I'm trying to lighten the chapter up at the end there...not as if this is a happy ending anyway. Oops._

_Oh well. I hope you're still liking this story. One more chapter to go!_

_Hold on to your tissues...you may or may not need them._

_Thank you everyone who's reviewed this fic so far. It makes me very happy! _


	11. Chapter 11

"Aren't you going to go to bed soon Willem?"

The younger man looks at Willem from the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. Blinking to refocus his eyes away from the radars and computer monitors, the Dutchman shakes his head.

"I had a nap earlier, so I'll wait a little while longer..."

he lies as he sips the lukewarm coffee, re-adjusting his glasses as he once again returns to watch the many monitors in the observational room.

Emil remains in the doorway for a while longer before muttering a quiet 'good night' and disappears upstairs.

From the corner of his eye Willem swears he can see a movement – but the second he tries to focus on it: it disappears.

Cursing under his breath he resumes staring at the screens on his desk.

Only a few more nights.

A few more hours of wake.

He can do that, no problem.

It's for a good cause really.

Even if it means going down the same path as the Nordic – he'll do it.

It wasn't that difficult to get Erik's old job – in fact, despite his previous problems Willem was deemed a good candidate.

He also has Emil.

The moment he told the younger male about taking over Erik's old job, Emil immediately proclaimed he was coming with him – and nothing Willem said could make him change his mind.

It was at first odd to live in the same house as Erik's younger brother – often he'd get their names mixed up, causing them both to stop what they were doing and stare at the floor. Willem out of embarrassment and Emil out of sadness. Even if the younger male never said anything, Willem could tell it hurt to be 'confused' for his older brother.

Everyday Willem woke up and had to remind himself the person he'd see today wouldn't be Erik.

Emil had once just stood in the hallway staring in the mirror. After a while Willem carefully inquired what he was doing.

"Would it make you happy if I coloured my hair blonde...like Erik's?"

The question had thrown him off completely. A part of him wanted to nod and beg the younger male to do so – the other part reminded him that it would never be Erik, and a replacement would never do. It wouldn't be fair on neither Erik or Emil.

He'd refused the offer, laughing the question off with a smile as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"You can look up to him, but copying his appearance won't bring him back" he finally mumbled over breakfast – partly to himself and partly to the younger male. Emil had somberly agreed with him before continuing his breakfast.

It's been six months since he took this new job.

6 days, 6 hours and 53 minutes since he last had a proper sleep.

Willem stumbles up the stairs as his vision fails him, it's only due to luck and a very helpful Icelandic youth that he manages to make it to his bed.

He sleeps for an entire day and a half. By the time his eyes flutter open it's nearly 10 in the morning and the storm he was keeping and eye on seems to have died down completely.

The house is completely still – the only sound he can hear is the quiet ticking of the great grandfather clock in the living room.

And humming.

Willem sits up straight in an instant – regretting the sudden movement as he feels a very bad headache looming over him.

Massaging his temples he makes his way downstairs to the kitchen, cursing lightly as he almost loses his balance halfway down.

The humming doesn't stop – it only grown louder as he finally reaches the bottom of the stairs.

Stepping into the kitchen Willem freezes on the spot. Staring straight at a very familiar and long sought after figure.

"Erik..." he breathes out quietly.

The blonde Norseman turns around and smiles. "Good morning Willem. Slept well?"

"I..I yes...think so" he finally stammers back as he takes one step closer to the other male.

Erik is in the kitchen, making coffee.

Or at least about to – three cups are neatly aligned on the counter along with the tin canister of ground coffee beans.

"Take a nap after breakfast, you look like you need it." Erik jokes as he carefully measures the right amount of coffee for the machine.

"...yeah, think I will" Willem replies as he continues to stare at Erik. Something is so wrong yet so right about having him here – but right now the wrong feeling is pushed away and replaced by the gleeful little butterflies that swell in his stomach with every passing second.

"Can't have you becoming like me you know" Erik continues before pressing the little button on the machine and motioning for them both to take a seat by the table.

Willem shakily takes a seat, before he reaches out to grasp Erik's hand in his own. It's colder than he remembers and lacks something. Willem just can't put his finger on it.

"Ho-how are you?" he shakily asks as he traces the lines in Erik's palm with his fingertips.

"How do I look?"

"you look...good"

"Then that's how I feel" Erik states with a smile.

"You...you're not just going to disappear again are you?" the worry in his voice is painfully obvious. He couldn't handle loosing Erik a second time.

"Do you want me to?"

"No...never."

"Then I'll stay for as long as you want."

"Promise?"

"Promise." Erik smiles back at him reassuringly – and for the first time in months Willem feels a glimmer or security and safety in his life.

"Emil misses you..." he adds after he's poured them both a cup of coffee.

"I know." Erik replies after a long silence.

"What you did was unfair." he whispers as he chews his bottom lip till the soft skin breaks and a small drop of blood is pushed to the surface – the metallic taste completely ignored by the Dutchman as he takes in the sight of Erik.

Erik reaches out and places a cold hand lightly over his, soft fingers brushing over Willem's knuckles like a feather.

"I know." Erik's voice is just like he remembered it – deep, soft yet determined. He's missed the sound of it so much.

"I love you."

"I know you do...I wouldn't be here if you didn't"

Erik smiles as he stands up from the table without a single sound; as the blonde male leans down to kiss the scar on Willem's forehead; he feels no heat as the Norwegians lips connect with his skin – only a breath of cold air.

"I've gone mad...haven't I?"

"Yes..you have." Erik's fingers trace the contours of his face with delicate fingers – a sensation barely felt by the Dutchman, except for the cold shiver his touch leaves in their wake.

"What's going to happen to me?"

"What do you want to happen?"

"Nothing. I want to stay here, with you and Emil..."

"Then we'll do that"

~~~~~~~~~~~X~~~~~~~~~~~

Emil watches silently as the days slowly tick by. He doesn't question why Willem brings two cups of coffee into the observational room – not does he question why the large Dutchman only sleeps on one side of the large double bed. He also stays quiet about how he can hear Willem talk to someone when he thinks he's all alone.

So the question over breakfast takes Willem completely off guard.

"So, how is my brother doing?"

The spiky haired male choked on his toast and has to take a minute to compose himself again.

"How would I know..I'm not some freaky medium." he replies jokingly as he runs a hand through his hair.

"Do you think I'm going to phone the asylum or something...?" Emil's voice is low, cold and very serious – much more so than normal. It sends a shiver down Willem's back. Never has Emil sounded so much like Erik.

Willem feels the cold sweat spreading as he casts a glance towards the living room where he last saw Erik.

The Norseman is nowhere in sight, forcing him to have to look back at Emil.

"No, I just..." He grits his teeth together and tries too find the right words

"You don't trust me." Emil finishes for him with a sigh.

"No,no! That's not it at all..."

but the look in Emil's eyes say otherwise – the younger male has figured him out.

"No sense in lying Willem. Just promise me you won't do something as stupid as Erik."

Willem nods before carefully resuming his breakfast – his appetite gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~X~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How is he?" Margaret inquires as she pours the white haired male a cup of coffee

"He's fine..." comes the ambiguous answer as Emil lifts the cup to his lips and takes a sip of the burning hot beverage.

"He's my brother, I'd appreciate it if you could at least tell me how he is" The blonde woman huffs and snatches the plate of waffles away from Emil's grasp.

"Fine, fine...Your brother is all right...he's sleeping, eating and drinking normally." he replies before trying to grab one of the still freshly made waffles

"But?" she frowns and leans away from him with the plate – she won't settle for such a vague answer.

"There is no 'but', that's all there is to it." Emil sighs and gives up on the quest for waffles, opting instead to sulk over his cup of coffee.

"That can't be all there is to it..."

Emil stays silent for a minute before he meets the blonde woman's eyes.

"Did you know I'd already seen you before Willem introduced us?"

Margaret stares, taken back at the sudden change of conversational topic.

"No..what do you mean?"

"Erik's book...the one with all the fairy-tales..."

"What's that got to do with me?"

"You'll see..." Emil smirks as he quickly disappears out the kitchen door to retrieve it.

As he flips through the pages, Margaret only grows more and more curious.

"There..." Emil points to a barely clothed figure on a tree-stump.

"I..I have a tail?" she can't help but smile – everything about the drawing is spot on, except the tail.

"Willem said this was one of the creatures Erik used to see, and so he drew her."

"Okay, that's creepy and fantastic all at once, but I want to know how Willem is doing." she pouts and crosses her arms, having great difficulty tearing her gaze away from the beautiful drawing in the book. She's a bit flattered – even if Erik drew the drawing before meeting her.

"I'm getting to that..." Emil sighs and flips through a few more pages, letting Margaret study some more drawing for a little while.

"Erik saw these creatures as clear as day...they were a part of his everyday life as much as breathing and eating. To him they were real. He could hear, touch and feel them."

"But they were imaginary..."

"True, but the brain is a powerful tool in the human mind. How often have your touched something and expected it to be hot? Only to withdraw your hand in a yelp of pain before realising it was actually cold?"

"Oh, a few times actually." Margaret quietly admits, not sure she's liking were this is going.

"Erik created the faeries because he was lonely..."

"And?" she asks, partly curious and partly terrified.

"How much do you think your brother cared for mine?"

"Oh quite a lot I'd say! I've never seen him warm up to anyone else so quickly, and he made him a painting and everything. If I didn't know any better I'd say he was in lo-" her eager chatter stops abruptly as she catches Emil's serious expression.

"No way..you mean Willem...?"

Emil nods solemnly as he closes the fairytale book with a dull thud.

The two sit in a long silence as Margaret slowly processes the new information given to her.

"What should we do?" she whispers after a while as Emil busies himself with eating the waffles left unguarded by a still confused Margaret.

"Leave him be...he's not doing any harm." Emil coolly replies as he helps himself to another waffle and jam.

"but he's crazy!"

Emil stops everything he's doing and glares at the woman across the table with such intensity Margaret feels every hair on her body stand on end.

"He's not crazy. My brother wasn't either, he functioned perfectly fine around others. There is no need for a prison." his voice comes out between clenched teeth, a growl in the back of his throat present as he utters the word 'prison' as if it was the devil himself.

"but..."

"No. Willem knows he's seeing things, just like Erik did. They took away my brother, took away everything that he ever loved...are you really going to do let the same thing happen to yours?"

Margaret stares at Emil for a long time. She remembers the picture Erik had and she rememberer meeting the youth at 18. Yet here he sits, opposite from her, at the age of 21 - and suddenly Margaret thinks he's gotten much older in only the space of a few hours.

Staring at her empty plate she nervously picks non-existent dirt from under her fingernails.

"I'm just worried..."

"Willem won't do anything...if he does then we can re-think this. But please...Margaret. Don't take him away either. He's the only connection with Erik I have left." Emil's voice is on the verge of breaking.

Lifting her head, her green eyes meet his lavender ones, and with a weak smile she nods in agreement. She'll stay quiet about this.

They'll let Willem be.

Let him keep his ghost to ease the heartbreak and the pain.

Because there is nothing wrong with mourning a lost love – time heals all wounds, but scars remain forever.

* * *

><p><em>A.N:<em>

_Well I hope you all enjoyed that *tissues for you all* thank you all so much for reviews and faves for this story – means a lot to me :3  
>I enjoyed writing this, even if this last chapter was a battle and a half.<em>

_If you've made it all the way to this chapter, then have some music:_

_www(.)mediafire(.)com/ ?08a7blyr5u7k749_


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